AN  AMERICAN   PATRICIAN 
OR  THE   STORY   OF 

AARON  BURR 


OFTHE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


AARON  BURR 

From  a  crayon  drawing  of  a  portrait  by  Gilbert  Stuart. 


/AN 

AMERICAN    PATRICIAN- 
OR 'THE   STORY  OF. 

AARON  BURR- 


BY 

ALFRED    HENRY    LEWIS 

Author  of 

"When    Men    Grew    Tall    or 
The  Story  of  Andrew  Jackson  " 


ILLUSTRATED 


D.    APPLETON     AND     COMPANY 

NEW     YORK 

1908 


COPYRIGHT,  1908,  BY 
D.  APPLETON  AND   COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,  1906,  1907,  BY 
THE  PEARSON  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


Published  February,  1908 


TO 

ELBERT    HUBBARD 

FOR  THE  PLEASURE  HIS  WRITINGS   HAVE  GIVEN 

ME,    AND    AS    A    MARK    OF    ADMIRATION 

FOR    THE    GLOSS    AND    PURITY    OF 

HIS  ENGLISH,  THIS  VOLUME 

IS  DEDICATED 

A.   H.    L. 


212014 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. — FROM  THEOLOGY  TO  LAW  i    / 

II. — THE  GENTLEMAN  VOLUNTEER        .        .       .17 

III. — COLONEL  BENEDICT  ARNOLD  EXPLAINS       .     27 

IV. — THE  YOUNG  FRENCH  PRIEST         ...     40 

V. — THE  WRATH  OF  WASHINGTON       ...     50 

VI. — POOR  PEGGY  MONCRIEFFE      ....     63 

VII. — THE  CONQUERING  THEODOSIA  .     81 

VIII. — MARRIAGE  AND  THE  LAW       ....     95 

IX. — SON-IN-LAW  HAMILTON in 

X. — THAT  SEAT  IN  THE  SENATE    .       .        .        .123 

XL — THAT  STATESMAN  FROM  NEW  YORK    .        .   141 

XII. — IDLENESS  AND  BLACK  RESOLVES  .        .       .   156 

XIII. — THE  GRINDING  OF  AARON'S  MILL        .        .   168 

XIV. — THE  TRIUMPH  OF  AARON       .       .       .        .184 

XV. — THE  INTRIGUE  OF  THE  TIE    ....   198 

XVI. — THE  SWEETNESS  OF  REVENGE       .        .        .211 

XVII. — AARON  I,  EMPEROR  OF  MEXICO    .        .       .  229 

XVIII. — THE  TREASON  OF  WILKINSON       .        .       .   242 

XIX. — How  AARON  is  INDICTED       .       .       .       .258 

vii 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  pAGE 

XX. — How  AARON  is  FOUND  INNOCENT  .  .   272 

XXI. — THE  SAILING  AWAY  or  AARON      .  .  .   283 

XXII. — How  AARON  RETURNS  HOME        .  .  .   297 

XXIII. — GRIEF  COMES  KNOCKING        .       .  .  .313 

XXIV. — THE  DOWNFALL  OF  KING  CAUCUS  .  .   324 

XXV.— THE  LAST  DAYS 332 


Vlll 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING 
PAGE 


Aaron  Burr — From  a  crayon  drawing  of  a  portrait  by 

Gilbert  Stuart Frontispiece 

General  Israel  Putnam 24 

British  Reinforcements  Landing  at  Quebec    ...      46 
Benedict  Arnold — From  an  etching  by  H.  B.  Hall,  New 

York,  1879 58 

Washington  at  Valley  Forge — From  the  original  painting 

by  A.  Chappel 86 

The  Battle  of  Monmouth — From  the  original  painting 

by  A.  Chappel 92 

Mrs.  Benedict  Arnold  and  Child — From  a  painting  by 

Sir  Thomas  Lawrence 104 

Alexander  Hamilton 142 

John  Adams 164 

Thomas  Jefferson 188 

Theodosia    Burr — From    the    original    portrait    by    St. 

Memin 208 

General  James  Wilkinson — From  a  crayon  portrait  by 

James  Sharpless 234 

Harman    Blennerhasset — After    a    miniature    made    in 

Europe  about  1795 246 

De  Witt  Clinton — From  an  etching  by  H.  B.  Hall,  New 

York,  1869 314 

Martin  Van  Buren 318 

Aaron  Burr — From  a  painting  by  J.  Vandyke       .        .   330 

ix 


f  • 

I  UNIV 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 


AN   AMERICAN  PATRICIAN 


CHAPTER    I 

FROM  THEOLOGY   TO    LAW 

THE  Right  Reverend  Doctor  Bellamy 
is  a  personage  of  churchly  conse 
quence  in  Bethlehem.  Indeed,  the 
doctor  is  a  personage  of  churchly  consequence 
throughout  all  Connecticut.  For  he  took  his 
theology  from  that  well-head  of  divinity  and 
metaphysics,  Jonathan  Edwards  himself,  and 
possesses  an  immense  library  of  five  hundred 
volumes,  mostly  on  religion.  Also,  he  is  the 
author  of  "True  Religion  Delineated  ";  which 
work  shines  out  across  the  tumbling  seas  of 
New  England  Congregationalism  like  a  light 
house  on  a  difficult  coast.  Peculiarly  is  it  of 
guiding  moment  to  storm-vexed  student  ones, 
who,  wanting  it,  might  go  crashing  on  con 
troversial  reefs,  and  so  miss  those  pulpit  snug- 
harbors  toward  which  the  pious  prows  of  their 
hopes  are  pointed. 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

The  doctor  has  a  round,  florid  face,  which, 
with  his  well-fed  stomach,  gives  no  hint  of  thin 
living.  From  the  suave  propriety  of  his  cue 
to  the  silver  buckles  on  his  shoes,  his  atmos 
phere  is  wholly  clerical.  Just  now,  however,  he 
wears  a  disturbed,  fussy  air,  as  though  some 
thing  has  rubbed  wrong-wise  the  fur  of  his 
feelings.  He  shows  this  by  the  way  in  which 
he  trots  up  and  down  his  study  floor.  Doubt 
less,  some  portion  of  that  fussiness  is  derived 
from  the  doctor's  short  fat  legs;  for  none  save 
your  long-legged  folk  may  walk  to  and  fro 
with  dignity.  Still,  it  is  clear  there  be  reasons 
of  disturbance  which  go  deeper  than  mere 
short  fat  legs,  and  set  his  spirits  in  a  tumult. 

The  good  doctor,  as  he  trots  up  and  down, 
is  not  alone.  Madam  Bellamy  is  with  him, 
chair  drawn  just  out  of  reach  of  the  June  sun 
shine  as  it  comes  streaming  through  the  open 
lattice.  In  her  plump  hands  she  holds  her 
sewing;  for  she  is  strong  in  the  New  England 
virtue  of  industry,  and  regards  hand-idleness 
as  a  species  of  viciousness.  While  she  stitches, 
she  bends  appreciative  ear  to  the  whistle  of  a 
robin  in  an  apple  tree  outside. 

"  No,  mother,"  observes  the  doctor,  break 
ing  in  on  the  robin,  "  the  lad  does  himself  no 

2 


FROM    THEOLOGY     TO     LAW 

credit.     He  is  careless,  callous,  rebellious,  fop 
pish,  and  altogether  of  the  flesh.      I  warrant 
you  I  shall  take  him  in  hand;  it  is  my  duty." 
.  u  But  no  harshness,  Joseph!  " 

"  No,  mother;  as  you  say,  I  must  not  be 
harsh.  None  the  less  I  shall  be  firm.  He  must 
study;  he  is  not  to  become  a  preacher  by  mere 
wishing." 

Shod  hoofs  are  heard  on  the  graveled  drive 
way;  a  voice  is  lifted : 

"  Walk  Warlock  up  and  down  until  he  is 
cooled  out.  Then  give  him  a  rub,  and  a 
mouthful  of  water." 

Madam  Bellamy  steps  to  the  window.     The 
master  of  the  voice  is  swinging  from  the  sad 
dle,  while  the  doctor's  groom  takes  his  horse- 
sweating  from  a  brisk  gallop — by  the  bridle. 

"  Here  he  comes  now,"  says  Madam  Bel 
lamy,  at  the  sound  of  a  springy  step  in  the  hall. 

The  youth,  who  so  confidently  enters  the 
doctor's  study,  is  in  his  nineteenth  year.  His 
face  is  sensitive  and  fine,  and  its  somewhat 
overbred  look  is  strengthened  and  restored  by 
a  high  hawkish  nose.  The  dark  hair  is  clubbed 
in  an  elegant  cue.  The  skin,  fair  as  a  girl's, 
gives  to  the  black  eyes  a  glitter  beyond  their 
due.  These  eyes  are  the  striking  feature;  for, 

3 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

while  the  eyes  of  a  poet,  they  carry  in  their  inky 
depths  a  hard,  ophidian  sparkle  both  dangerous 
and  fascinating — the  sort  of  eyes  that  warn  a 
man  and  blind  a  woman. 

The  youth  is  but  five  feet  six  inches  tall,  with 
little  hands  and  feet,  and  ears  ridiculously 
small.  And  yet,  his  light,  slim  form  is  so  ac 
curately  proportioned  that,  besides  grace  and  a 
catlike  quickness,  it  hides  in  its  molded  muscles 
the  strength  of  steel.  Also,  any  impression  of 
insignificance  is  defeated  by  the  wide  brow  and 
well-shaped  head,  which,  coupled  with  a  steady 
self-confidence  that  envelops  him  like  an  at 
mosphere,  give  the  effect  of  power. 

As  he  lounges  languidly  and  pantherwise 
into  the  study,  he  bows  to  Madam  Bellamy  and 
the  good  doctor. 

"  You  had  quite  a  canter,  Aaron,"  remarks 
Madam  Bellamy. 

"  I  went  half  way  to  Litchfield,"  returns  the 
youth,  smiting  his  glossy  riding  boot  with  the 
whip  he  carries.  "  For  a  moment  I  thought  of 
seeing  my  sister  Sally;  but  it  would  have  been 
too  long  a  run  for  so  warm  a  day.  As  it  is, 
poor  Warlock  looks  as  though  he'd  forded  a 


river." 


The  youth  throws  himself  carelessly  into  the 
4 


FROM     THEOLOGY     TO     LAW 

doctor's  easy-chair.  That  divine  clears  his 
throat  professionally.  Foreseeing  earnestness 
if  not  severity  in  the  discourse  which  is  to 
follow,  Madam  Bellamy  picks  up  her  needle 
work  and  retires. 

When  she  is  gone,  the  doctor  establishes 
himself  opposite  the  youth.  His  manner  is  ad 
monitory;  which  is  not  out  of  place,  when  one 
remembers  that  the  doctor  is  fifty-five  and  the 
youth  but  nineteen. 

"  You've  been  with  me,  Aaron,  something 
like  eight  months." 

The  black  eyes  are  fastened  upon  the  doc 
tor,  and  their  ophidian  glitter  makes  the  latter 
uneasy.  For  relief  he  rebegins  his  short-paced 
trot  up  and  down. 

Renewed  by  action,  and  his  confidence  re 
turning,  the  doctor  commences  with  vast 
gravity  a  kind  of  speech.  His  manner  is  un 
consciously  pompous;  for,  as  the  village 
preacher,  he  is  wont  to  have  his  wisdom  ac 
cepted  without  discount  or  dispute. 

'  You  will  believe  me,  Aaron,"  says  the 
doctor,  spacing  off  his  words  and  calling  up 
his  best  pulpit  voice — "  you  will  believe  me, 
when  I  tell  you  that  I  am  more  than  commonly 
concerned  for  your  welfare.  I  was  the  friend 

5 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

of  your  father,  both  when  he  held  the  pulpit  in 
Newark,  and  later  when  he  was  President  of 
Princeton  University.  I  studied  my  divinity  at 
the  knee  of  your  mother's  father,  the  pious 
Jonathan  Edwards.  Need  I  say,  then,  that 
when  you  came  to  me  fresh  from  your  own 
Princeton  graduation  my  heart  was  open  to 
you  ?  It  seemed  as  though  I  were  about  to  pay 
an  old  debt.  I  would  regive  you  those  lessons 
which  your  grandfather  Edwards  gave  me.  In 
addition,  I  would — so  far  as  I  might — take  the 
place  of  that  father  whom  you  lost  so  many 
years  ago.  That  was  my  feeling.  Now,  when 
you've  been  with  me  eight  months,  I  tell  you 
plainly  that  I'm  far  from  satisfied." 
"In  what,  sir,  have  I  disappointed?" 
The  voice  is  confidently  careless,  while  the 
ophidian  eyes  keep  up  their  black  glitter  un 
abashed. 

"  Sir,  you  are  passively  rebellious,  and  refuse 
direction.  I  place  in  your  hands  those  best 
works  of  your  mighty  grandsire,  namely,  his 
4  Qualifications  for  Full  Communion  in  the 
Visible  Church  '  and  '  The  Doctrine  of  Origi 
nal  Sin  Defended,'  and  you  cast  them  aside  for 
the  l  Letters  of  Lord  Chesterfield '  and  the 
*  Comedies  of  Terence.'  Bah !  the  '  Letters 

6 


FROM    THEOLOGY     TO     LAW 

of  Lord  Chesterfield ' !  of  which  Dr.  Johnson 
says,  c  They  teach  the  morals  of  a  harlot  and 
the  manners  of  a  dancing  master.'  ' 

"  And  if  so,"  drawls  the  youth,  with  icy  im 
penitence,  "  is  not  that  a  pretty  good  equipment 
for  such  a  world  as  this?  " 

At  the  gross  outrage  of  such  a  question,  the 
doctor  pauses  in  that  to-and-fro  trot  as  though 
planet-struck. 

"What!"  he  gasps. 

"  Doctor,  I  meant  to  tell  you  a  month  later 
what — since  the  ice  is  so  happily  broken — I 
may  as  well  say  now.  My  dip  into  the  teach 
ings  of  my  reverend  grandsire  has  taught  me 
that  I  have  no  genius  for  divinity.  To  be 
frank,  I  lack  the  pulpit  heart.  Every  day  aug 
ments  my  contempt  for  that  ministry  to  which 
you  design  me.  The  thought  of  drawing  a 
salary  for  being  good,  and  agreeing  to  be 
moral  for  so  much  a  year,  disgusts  me." 

"  And  this  from  you — the  son  of  a  minister 
of  the  Gospel !  "  The  doctor  holds  up  his 
hands  in  pudgy  horror. 

"  Precisely  so !  In  which  connection  it  is 
well  to  recall  that  German  proverb :  '  The 
preacher's  son  is  ever  the  devil's  grandson.' ' 

The  doctor  sits  down  and  mops  his  fretted 
7 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

brow;  the  manner  in  which  he  waves  his  lace 
handkerchief  is  like  a  publication  of  despair. 
He  fixes  his  gaze  on  the  youth  resignedly, 
as  who  should  say,  "  Strike  home,  and  spare 
not!" 

This  last  tacit  invitation  the  youth  seems 
disposed  to  accept.  It  is  now  his  turn  to  walk 
the  study  floor.  But  he  does  it  better  than  did 
the  fussy  doctor,  his  every  motion  the  climax 
of  composed  grace. 

"  Listen,  my  friend,"  says  the  youth. 

For  all  the  confident  egotism  of  his  manner, 
there  is  in  it  no  smell  of  conceit.  He  speaks  of 
himself;  but  he  does  so  as  though  discussing 
some  object  outside  of  himself  to  which  he  is  in 
different. 

'*  Those  eight  months  of  which  you  complain 
have  not  been  wasted.  If  I  have  drawn  no  other 
lesson  from  my  excellent  grandsire's  4  Doctrine 
of  Original  Sin  Defended/  it  has  taught  me 
to  exhaustively  examine  my  own  breast.  I  dis 
cover  that  I  have  strong  points  as  well  as  points 
of  weakness.  I  read  Latin  and  Greek;  and  I 
talk  French  and  German,  besides  English,  in 
differently  well.  Also,  I  fence,  shoot,  box,  ride, 
row,  sail,  walk,  run,  wrestle  and  jump  superbly. 
Beyond  the  merits  chronicled  I  have  tried  my 

8 


FROM     THEOLOGY     TO     LAW 

courage,  and  find  that  I  may  trust  it  like  Gibral 
tar.  These,  you  will  note,  are  not  the  virtues 
of  a  clergyman,  but  of  a  soldier.  My  weak 
nesses  likewise  turn  me  away  from  the  pulpit. 
I  have  no  hot  sympathies;  and,  while  not  mean 
in  the  money  sense,  holding  such  to  be  beneath 
a  gentleman,  I  may  say  that  my  first  concern  is 
not  for  others  but  for  myself." 

"  It  is  as  though  I  listened  to  Satan !  "  ex 
claims  the  dismayed  doctor,  fidgeting  with  his 
ruffles. 

"  And  if  it  were  indeed  Satan!  "  goes  on  the 
youth,  with  a  gleam  of  sarcasm,  "  I  have  heard 
you  characterize  that  arch  demon  from  your 
pulpit,  and  even  you,  while  making  him  mali 
cious,  never  made  him  mean.  But  to  get  on 
with  this  picture  of  myself,  which  I  show  you  as 
preliminary  to  laying  bare  a  resolution.  As  I 
say,  I  have  no  sympathies,  no  hopes  which  go 
beyond  myself.  I  think  on  this  world,  not  the 
next;  I  believe  only  in  the  gospel  according  to 
Philip  Dormer  Stanhope — that  Lord  Chester 
field,  whom,  with  the  help  of  Dr.  Johnson,  you 
so  much  succeed  in  despising." 

"To  talk  thus  at  nineteen!"  whispers  the 
doctor,  his  face  ghastly. 

"  Nineteen,  truly !  But  you  must  reflect  that 
9 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

I  have  not  had,  since  I  may  remember,  the  care 
of  either  father  or  mother,  which  is  an  upbring 
ing  to  rapidly  age  one." 

"  Were  you  not  carefully  reared  by  your  kind 
Uncle  Timothy?"  This  indignantly. 

"  Indeed,  sir,  I  was,  as  you  say,  well  reared 
in  that  dull  town  of  Elizabeth,  which  for  good 
ness  and  dullness  may  compare  with  your  Beth 
lehem  here.  It  was  a  rearing,  too,  from  which 
— as  I  think  my  kind  Uncle  Timothy  has  in 
formed  you — I  fled." 

"  He  did!  He  said  you  played  truant  twice, 
once  running  away  to  sea." 

"  It  was  no  great  voyage,  then!  "  The  im 
perturbable  youth,  hard  of  eye,  soft  of  voice, 
smiles  cynically.  "  No,  I  was  cabin  boy  two 
days,  during  all  of  which  the  ship  lay  tied 
bow  and  stern  to  her  New  York  wharf.  How 
ever,  that  is  of  no  consequence  as  part  of  what 
we  now  consider." 

"No!"  interrupts  the  doctor  miserably, 
"  only  so  far  as  it  displays  the  young  workings 
of  your  sinfully  rebellious  nature.  As  a  child, 
too,  you  mocked  your  elders,  as  you  do  now. 
Later,  as  a  student,  you  were  the  horror  of 
Princeton." 

"  All  that,  sir,  I  confess;  and  yet  I  say  that  it 
10 


FROM    THEOLOGY     TO     LAW 

is  of  the  past.  I  hold  it  time  lost  to  think  on 
aught  save  the  present  or  the  future." 

"  Think,  then,  on  your  soul's  future ! — your 
soul's  eternal  future !  " 

"  I  shall  think  on  what  lies  this  side  of  the 
grave.  I  shall  devote  my  faculties  to  this 
world;  which,  from  what  I  have  seen,  is  more 
than  likely  to  keep  me  handsomely  engaged. 
The  next  world  is  a  bridge,  the  crossing  of 
which  I  reserve  until  I  come  to  it." 

"  Have  you  then  no  religious  convictions?  no 
fears?" 

"  I  have  said  that  I  fear  nothing,  apprehend 
nothing.  Timidity,  of  either  soul  or  body,  was 
pleasantly  absent  at  my  birth.  As  for  convic 
tions,  I'd  no  more  have  one  than  I'd  have  the 
plague.  What  is  a  conviction  but  something 
wherewith  a  man  vexes  himself  and  worries  his 
neighbor.  Conclusions,  yes,  as  many  as  you 
like ;  but,  thank  my  native  star !  I  am  incapable 
of  a  conviction." 

The  doctor's  earlier  horror  is  fast  giving  way 
to  anger.  He  almost  sneers  as  he  asks : 

u  But  you  pretend  to  honesty,  I  trust?" 

'  Why,  sir,"  returns  the  youth,  with  an  air 
which  narrowly  misses  the  patronizing,  and 
reminds  one  of  nothing  so  much  as  polished 

II 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

brass — "  why,  sir,  honesty,  like  generosity  or 
gratitude,  is  a  gentlemanly  trait,  the  absence 
of  which  would  be  inexpressibly  vulgar.  Nat 
urally,  I'm  honest;  but  with  the  understanding 
that  I  have  my  honesty  under  control.  It  shall 
never  injure  me,  I  tell  you !  When  its  plain 
effect  will  be  to  strengthen  an  enemy  or  weaken 
myself,  I  shall  prove  no  such  fool  as  to  give  way 


to  it." 


"While  you  talk,  I  think,"  breaks  in  the 
doctor;  "  and  now  I  begin  to  see  the  source 
of  your  pride  and  your  satanism.  It  is  your 
own  riches  that  tempt  you !  Your  soul  is  to  be 
undone  because  your  body  has  four  hundred 
pounds  a  year." 

"Not  so  fast,  sir!  I  am  glad  I  have  four 
hundred  pounds  a  year.  It  relieves  me  of  much 
that  is  gross.  I  turn  my  back  on  the  Church, 
however,  only  because  I  am  unfitted  for  it,  and 
accept  the  world  simply  for  that  it  fits  me.  I 
have  given  you  the  truth.  As  a  minister  of  the 
Gospel  I  should  fail;  as  a  man  of  the  world  I 
shall  succeed.  The  pulpit  is  beyond  me  as  re 
ligion  is  beyond  me;  for  I  am  not  one  who  could 
allay  present  pain  by  some  imagined  bliss  to  fol 
low  after  death,  or  find  joy  in  stripping  himself 
of  a  benefit  to  promote  another." 

12 


FROM    THEOLOGY     TO     LAW 

"  Now  this  is  the  very  theology  of  Beelzebub 
for  sure !  "  cries  the  incensed  doctor. 

4 '  It  is  anything  you  like,  sir,  so  it  be  under 
stood  as  a  description  of  myself." 

"  Marriage  might  save  him!"  muses  the 
desperate  doctor.  "  To  love  and  be  loved  by  a 
beautiful  woman  might  yet  lead  his  heart  to 
grace!" 

The  pale  flicker  of  a  smile  comes  about  the 
lips  of  the  black-eyed  one. 

"Love!  beauty!"  he  begins.  "Sir,  while 
I  might  strive  to  possess  myself  of  both,  I 
should  no  more  love  beauty  in  a  woman  than 
riches  in  a  man.  I  could  love  a  woman  only 
for  her  fineness. of  mind;  wed  no  one  who  did 
not  meet  me  mentally  and  sentimentally  half 
way.  And  since  your  Hypatia  is  quite  as  rare 
as  your  Phoenix,  I  cannot  think  my  nuptials  near 
at  hand." 

"  Well,"  observes  the  doctor,  assuming  po 
liteness  sudden  and  vast,  "  since  I  understand 
you  throw  overboard  the  Church,  may  I  know 
what  other  avenue  you  will  render  honorable  by 
walking  therein?" 

"  You  did  not  give  me  your  attention,  if  you 
failed  to  note  that  what  elements  of  strength 
I've  ascribed  to  myself  all  point  to  the  camp. 

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AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

So  soon  as  there  is  a  war,  I  shall  turn  soldier 
with  my  whole  heart." 

4  You  will  wait  some  time,  I  fear!" 

"  Not  so  long  as  I  could  wish.  There  will 
be  war  between  these  colonies  and  England  be 
fore  I  reach  my  majority.  It  would  be  better 
were  it  put  off  ten  years ;  for  now  my  youth  will 
get  between  the  heels  of  my  prospects  to  trip 
them  up." 

"  Then,  if  there  be  war  with  England,  you 
will  go?  I  do  not  think  such  bloody  trouble 
will  soon  dawn;  still — for  a  first  time  to-day — 
I  am  pleased  to  hear  you  thus  speak.  It  shows 
that  at  least  you  are  a  patriot." 

"  I  lay  no  claim  to  the  title.  England  op 
presses  us;  and,  since  one  only  oppresses  what 
one  hates,  she  hates  us.  And  hate  for  hate  I 
give  her.  I  shall  go  to  war,  because  I  am  fitted 
to  shine  in  war,  and  as  a  shortest,  surest  step  to 
fame  and  power — those  solitary  targets  worthy 
the  aim  of  man !  " 

"Dross!  dross!  "  retorts  the  scandalized  doc 
tor.  "  Fame!  power!  Dead  sea  apples,  which 
will  turn  to  ashes  on  your  lips !  And  yet,  since 
that  war  which  is  to  be  the  ladder  whereon  you 
will  go  climbing  into  fame  and  power  is  not  here, 
what,  pending  its  appearance,  will  you  do?" 

14 


FROM    THEOLOGY     TO     LAW 

"  Now  there  is  a  query  which  brings  us  to  the 
close.  Here  is  my  answer  ready.  I  shall  just 
ride  over  to  Sally,  and  her  husband,  Tappan 
Reeve,  and  take  up  Blackstone.  If  I  may  not 
serve  the  spirit  and  study  theology,  I'll  even 
serve  the  flesh  and  study  law." 

And  so  the  hero  of  these  memoirs  rides  over 
to  Litchfield,  to  study  the  law  and  wait  for  a  war. 
The  doctor  and  he  separate  in  friendly  son-and- 
father  fashion,  while  Madam  Bellamy  urges 
him  to  always  call  her  house  his  home.  He  is 
not  so  hard  as  he  thinks,  not  so  cynical  as  he 
feels;  still,  his  self-etched  portrait  possesses  the 
broader  lines  of  truth.  He  is  one  whom  men 
will  follow,  but  not  trust ;  admire,  but  not  love. 
There  is  enough  of  the  unconscious  serpent  in 
him  to  rouse  one  man's  hate,  while  putting  an 
edge  on  another's  fear.  Also,  because — 
from  the  fig-leaf  day  of  Eve — the  serpent  at 
tracts  and  fascinates  a  woman,  many  tender 
ones  will  lose  their  hearts  for  him.  They  will 
dash  themselves  and  break  themselves  against 
him,  like  wild  fowl  against  a  lighthouse  in  the 
night.  Even  as  he  rides  out  of  Bethlehem  that 
June  morning,  bright  young  eyes  peer  at  him 
from  behind  safe  lattices,  until  their  brightness 
dies  away  in  tears.  As  for  him  thus  sighed  over, 

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AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

his  lashes  are  dry  enough.  Bethlehem,  and  all 
who  home  therein,  from  the  doctor  with  Madam 
Bellamy,  to  her  whose  rose-red  lips  he  kissed  the 
latest,  are  already  of  the  unregarded  past.  He 
wears  nothing  but  the  future  on  his  agate  slope 
of  fancy;  he  is  thinking  only  on  himself  and  his 
hunger  to  become  a  god  of  the  popular — clothed 
with  power,  wreathed  of  fame! 

"  Mother,"  exclaims  the  doctor,  "  the  boy  is 
lost!  Ambitious  as  Lucifer,  he  will  fall  like 
Lucifer!" 

"  Joseph!" 

"  I  cannot  harbor  hope!  As  lucidly  clear  as 
glass,  he  was  yet  as  hard  as  glass.  If  I  were  to 
read  his  fortune,  I  should  say  that  Aaron  Burr 
will  soar  as  high  to  fall  as  low  as  any  soul  alive." 


CHAPTER    II 

THE    GENTLEMAN    VOLUNTEER 

YOUNG    Aaron    establishes    himself    in 
Litchfield  with  his  pretty  sister  Sally, 
who,  because  he  is  brilliant  and  hand 
some,  is  proud  of  him.     Also,  Tappan  Reeve, 
her  husband,  takes  to  him  in  a  slow,  bookish 
way,  and  is  much  held  by  his  trenchant  powers 
of  mind. 

Young  Aaron  assumes  the  law,  and  makes  lit 
tle  flights  into  Bracton's  "  Fleeta,"  and  reads 
Hawkins  and  Hobart,  delighting  in  them  for 
their  limpid  English.  More  seriously,  yet  more 
privately,  he  buries  himself  in  every  volume  of 
military  lore  upon  which  he  may  lay  hands;  for 
already  he  feels  that  Bunker  Hill  is  on  its  way, 
without  knowing  the  name  of  it,  and  would 
have  himself  prepared  for  its  advent. 

In  leisure  hours,  young  Aaron  gives  Litch 
field  society  the  glory  of  his  countenance.  He 
flourishes  as  a  village  Roquelaure,  with  plum- 

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AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

colored  coats,  embroidered  waistcoats,  silken 
hose,  and  satin  smalls,  sent  up  from  New  York. 
Likewise,  his  ruffles  are  miracles,  his  neckcloths 
works  of  starched  and  spotless  art,  while  at  his 
hip  he  wears  a  sword — hilt  of  gilt,  and  shark 
skin  scabbard  white  as  snow. 

Now,  because  he  is  splendid,  with  a  fortune 
of  four  hundred  annual  pounds,  and  since  no 
girl's  heart  may  resist  the  mystery  of  those  eyes, 
the  village  belles  come  sighing  against  him  in 
a  melting  phalanx  of  loveliness.  This  is  flatter 
ing;  but  young  Aaron  declines  to  be  impressed. 
Polished,  courteous,  in  amiable  possession  of 
himself,  he  furnishes  the  thought  of  a  bright 
coldness,  like  sunshine  on  a  field  of  ice.  Not 
that  anyone  is  to  blame.  The  difference  between 
him  and  the  sighing  ones,  is  a  difference  of 
shrines  and  altars.  They  sacrifice  to  Venus;  he 
worships  Mars.  While  he  has  visions  of  battle, 
they  dream  of  wedding  bells. 

For  one  moment  only  arises  some  tender  con 
fusion.  There  is  an  Uncle  Thaddeus — a  dotard 
ass  far  gone  in  years !  Uncle  Thaddeus  under 
takes,  behind  young  Aaron's  back,  to  make  him 
happy.  The  liberal  Uncle  Thaddeus  goes  so 
blindly  far  as  to  explore  the  heart  of  a  particular 
fair  one,  who  mayhap  sighs  more  deeply  than  do 

18 


GENTLEMAN    VOLUNTEER 

the  others.  It  grows  embarrassing;  for,  while 
the  sighing  one  thus  softly  met  accepts,  when 
Uncle  Thaddeus  flies  to  young  Aaron  with  the 
dulcet  news,  that  favored  personage  transfixes 
him  with  so  black  a  stare,  wherefrom  such  bale 
ful  serpent  rage  glares  forth,  that  our  dotard 
meddler  is  fear-frozen  in  the  very  midst  of  his 
ingenuous  assiduities.  And  thereupon  the  sigh 
ing  one  is  left  to  sigh  uncomforted,  while  Uncle 
Thaddeus  finds  himself  the  scorn  of  all  good  vil 
lage  opinion. 

While  young  Aaron  goes  stepping  up  and 
down  the  Litchfield  causeways,  as  though  strut 
ting  in  Jermyn  Street  or  Leicester  Square;  while 
thus  he  plays  the  fine  gentleman  with  ruffles  and 
silks  and  shark-skin  sword,  skimming  now  the 
law,  now  flattering  the  sighing  belles,  now  de 
vouring  the  literature  of  war,  he  has  ever  his 
finger  on  the  pulse,  and  his  ear  to  the  heart  of 
his  throbbing  times.  It  is  he  of  Litchfield  who 
hears  earliest  of  Lexington  and  Bunker  Hill. 
In  a  moment  he  is  all  action.  Off  come  the  fine 
feathers,  and  that  shark-skin,  gilt-hilt  sword. 
Warlock  is  saddled;  pistols  thrust  into  holsters. 
In  roughest  of  costumes -the  fop  surrenders  to 
the  soldier.  It  takes  but  a  day,  and  he  is  ready 
for  Cambridge  and  the  American  camp. 
19 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

As  he  goes  upon  these  doughty  preparations, 
young  Aaron  finds  himself  abetted  by  the  pretty 
Sally,  who  proves  as  martial  as  himself.  Her 
husband,  Tappan  Reeve,  easy,  quiet,  loving  his 
unvexed  life,  from  the  law  book  on  his  table 
to  the  pillow  whereon  he  nightly  sleeps,  cannot 
understand  this  headlong  war  hurry. 

"You  may  lose  your  life!"  cries  Tappan 
Reeve. 

"What  then?"  rejoins  young  Aaron. 
"  Whether  the  day  be  far  or  near,  that  life  you 
speak  of  is  already  lost.  I  shall  play  this  game. 
My  life  is  my  stake;  and  I  shall  freely  hazard 
it  upon  the  chance  of  winning  glory." 

"  And  have  you  no  fear?  " 

The  timid  Tappan's  thoughts  of  death  are 
ashen;  he  likes  to  live. 

Young  Aaron  bends  upon  him  his  black 
gaze.  "  What  I  fear  more  than  any  death," 
says  he,  "  is  stagnation — the  currentless  village 
life!" 

Young  Aaron,  arriving  at  Cambridge,  at 
taches  himself  to  General  Putnam.  The  griz 
zled  old  wolf  killer  likes  him,  being  of  broadest 
tolerations,  and  no  analyst  of  the  psychic. 

There  are  seventeen  thousand  Americans  scat 
tered  in  a  ragged  fringe  about  Boston,  in  which 
20 


GENTLEMAN    VOLUNTEER 

town  the  English,  taught  by  Lexington  and 
Bunker  Hill,  are  cautiously  prone  to  lie  close. 
Young  Aaron  makes  the  round  of  the  camps. 
He  is  amazed  by  the  unrule  and  want  of  disci 
pline.  Besides,  he  cannot  understand  the  inac 
tion,  feeling  that  each  new  day  should  have  its 
Bunker  Hill.  That  there  is  not  enough  powder 
among  the  Americans  to  load  and  fire  those 
seventeen  thousand  rifles  twice,  is  a  piece  of  mili 
tary  information  of  which  he  lives  ignorant,  for 
the  grave  Virginian  in  command  confides  it  only 
to  a  merest  few.  Had  young  Aaron  been  aware 
of  this  paucity  of  powder,  those  long  days,  idle, 
vacant  of  event,  might  not  have  troubled  him. 
The  wearisome  wonder  of  them  at  least  would 
have  been  made  plain. 

Young  Aaron  learns  of  an  expedition  against 
Quebec,  to  be  led  by  Colonel  Benedict  Arnold, 
and  resolves  to  join  it.  That  all  may  be  by  mili 
tary  rule,  he  seeks  General  Washington  to  ask 
permission.  He  finds  that  commander  in  talk 
with  General  Putnam;  the  old  wolf  killer  does 
him  the  favor  of  a  presentation. 

"  From  where  do  you  come?"  asks  Wash 
ington,  closely  scanning  young  Aaron  whom  he 
instantly  dislikes. 

"  From  Connecticut.     I  am  a  gentleman  vol- 

21 


OF  THE 

UN!VERS!TY 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

unteer,  attached  to  General  Putnam  with  the 
rank  of  captain." 

Something  of  repulsion  shows  cloudily  on  the 
brow  of  Washington.  Obviously  he  is  offended 
by  this  cool  stripling,  who  clothes  his  hairless 
boy's  face  with  a  confident  maturity  that  has  the 
effect  of  impertinence.  Also  the  phrase  "  gen 
tleman  volunteer,"  sticks  in  his  throat  like  a 
fish  bone. 

"  Ah,  a  '  gentleman  volunteer !  '  "  he  repeats 
in  a  tone  of  sarcasm  scarcely  veiled.  "  I  have 
now  and  then  heard  of  such  a  trinket  of  war, 
albeit,  never  to  the  trinket's  advantage.  Doubt 
less,  sir,  you  have  made  the  rounds  of  our 
array!" 

Young  Aaron,  from  his  beardless  five  feet  six 
inches,  looks  up  at  the  tall  Virginian,  and  can 
not  avoid  envying  him  his  door-wide  shoulders 
and  that  extra  half  foot  of  height.  He  per 
ceives,  too,  with  a  resentful  glow,  that  he  is 
being  mocked.  However,  he  controls  himself 
to  answer  coldly : 

"  As  you  surmise,  sir,  I  have  made  the  rounds 
of  your  forces." 

"  And  having  made  them  " — this  ironically — 
"  I  trust  you  found  all  to  your  satisfaction." 

"  As  to  that,"  remarks  young  Aaron,  u  while 

22 


GENTLEMAN    VOLUNTEER 

I  did  not  look  to  find  trained  soldiers,  I  think 
that  a  better  discipline  might  be  maintained." 

"  Indeed !  I  shall  make  a  note  of  it.  And 
yet  I  must  express  the  hope  that,  while  you  oc 
cupy  a  subordinate  place,  you  will  give  way  as 
little  as  may  be  to  your  perilous  trick  of  think 
ing,  leaving  it  rather  to  our  experienced  friend 
Putnam,  here,  he  being  trained  in  these  mat 
ters." 

The  old  wolf  killer  takes  advantage  of  this 
reference  to  himself,  to  help  the  interview  into 
less  trying  channels. 

"You  were  seeking  me?"  he  says  to  the 
youthful  critic  of  camps  and  discipline. 

"  I  was  seeking  the  commander  in  chief," 
returns  young  Aaron,  again  facing  Washington. 
"  I  came  to  ask  permission  to  go  with  Colonel 
Arnold  against  Quebec." 

"  Against  Quebec?"  repeats  Washington. 
"Go,  with  all  my  heart !" 

There  is  a  cut  concealed  in  that  consent,  to 
the  biting  smart  of  which  young  Aaron  is  not 
insensible.  However,  he  finds  in  the  towering 
manner  of  its  delivery  something  which  checks 
even  his  audacity.  After  saluting,  he  withdraws 
without  added  word. 

"  General,"  observes  Washington,  when 
23 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

young  Aaron  has  gone,  u  I  fear  I  cannot  con 
gratulate  you  on  your  new  captain." 

"  If  you  knew  him  better,  general,"  protests 
the  good-hearted  old  wolf  killer,  "  you  would 
like  him  better.  He  is  a  boy;  but  he  has  an  old 
head  on  his  young  shoulders." 

"  The  very  thing  I  most  fear,"  rejoins  Wash 
ington.  "  A  boy  has  no  more  business  with 
an  old  head  than  with  old  lungs  or  old  legs.  It 
is  unnatural,  sir ;  and  the  unnatural  is  the  wrong. 
I  want  only  heads  and  shoulders  about  me  that 
were  born  the  same  day.  For  that  reason,  I 
am  glad  your  '  gentleman  volunteer '  " — this 
with  a  shade  of  irony — "  goes  to  Quebec  with 
—^  that  turbulent  Norwich  apothecary,  Arnold. 
The  army  will  be  bettered  just  now  by  the  ab 
sence  of  these  lofty  spirits.  They  disturb  more 
than  they  help.  Besides,  a  tramp  of  sixty  days 
through  the  Maine  woods  will  improve  such 
Hotspurs  vastly.  There  is  nothing  like  a  six- 
hundred  mile  march  through  an  unbroken  wil 
derness,  with  a  fight  in  the  snow  at  the  far  end 
of  it,  to  take  the  edge  off  beardless  arrogance 
and  young  conceit." 

What  young  Aaron  carries  away  from  that 
interview,  as  an  impression  of  the  big  com 
mander  in  chief,  crops  out  in  converse  with  his 
24 


GENERAL  ISRAEL  PUTNAM 


GENTLEMAN    VOLUNTEER 

former  college  chum,  young  Ogden.  The  lat 
ter,  like  himself,  is  attached  to  the  military 
family  of  General  Putnam. 

"  Ogden,  we  have  begun  wrong  as  soldiers 
— you  and  I !  "  says  young  Aaron.  "  By  flint 
and  steel,  man,  we  should  have  commenced  like 
Washington,  by  hoeing  tobacco !  " 

"  Now  this  is  not  right !  "  cries  young  Ogden, 
in  reproof.  "  General  Washington  is  a  soldier 
who  has  seen  service." 

"  Why,"  retorts  young  Aaron,  "  I  believe  he 
was  trounced  with  Braddock."  Then,  warmly: 
"  Ogden,  the  man  is  Failure  walking  about  in 
blue  and  buff  and  high  boots !  I  read  him  like 
a  page  of  print !  He  is  slow,  dull,  bovine,  proud, 
and  of  no  decision.  He  lacks  initiative;  and, 
while  he  might  defend,  he  is  incapable  of  attack 
ing.  Worst  of  all  he  has  the  soul  of  a  planter — 
a  plantation  soul!  A  big  movement  like  this, 
which  brings  the  thirteen  colonies  to  the  field, 
is  beyond  his  grasp." 

'  Your  great  defect,  Aaron,"  cries  young  Og 
den,  not  without  indignation,  "  is  that  you  re 
gard  your  most  careless  judgment  as  final.  Half 
the  time,  too,  your  decision  is  the  product  of 
prejudice,  not  reason.  General  Washington 
offends  you — as,  to  be  frank,  he  did  me — by  put- 
25 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

ting  a  lower  estimate  on  your  powers  than  that 
at  which  you  yourself  are  pleased  to  hold  them. 
I  warrant  now  had  he  flattered  you  a  bit,  you 
would  have  found  in  him  a  very  Alexander." 

"  I  should  have  found  him  what  I  tell  you," 
retorts  young  Aaron  stoutly,  "  a  glaring  in 
stance  of  misplaced  mediocrity.  He  is  even 
wanting  in  dignity !  " 

u  For  my  side,  then,  I  found  him  dignified 
enough." 

"  Friend  Ogden,  you  took  dullness  for  dig 
nity.  Or  I  will  change  it;  I'll  even  consent  that 
he  is  dignified.  But  only  in  the  torpid,  cud- 
chewing  fashion  in  which  a  bullock  is  dignified. 
Still,  he  does  very  well  by  me;  for  he  says  I 
may  go  with  Colonel  Arnold.  And  so,  Ogden, 
I've  but  time  for  'good-by!  '  and  then  off  to 
make  myself  ready  to  accompany  our  swash 
buckler  druggist  against  Quebec." 


CHAPTER  III 

COLONEL  BENEDICT  ARNOLD  EXPLAINS 

IT  is  September,  brilliant  and  golden.     New- 
buryport  is  brave  with  warlike  excitement. 
Drums  roll,  fifes  shriek,  armed  men  fill  the 
single  village  street.     These  latter  are  not  sea 
soned  troops,  as  one  may  see  by  their  careless 
array  and  the  want  of  uniformity  in  their  home 
spun,    homemade   garbs.      No   two   are   armed 
alike,   for  each  has  brought  his  own  weapon. 
These  are   rifles — long,   eight-square  flintlocks. 
Also  every  rifleman  wears  a  powderhorn  and 
bullet  pouch  of  buckskin,  while  most  of  them 
carry  knives  and  hatchets  in  their  rawhide  belts. 
As  our  rude  soldiery  stand  at  ease  in  the  vil 
lage  street,  cheering  crowds  line  the  sidewalk. 
The  shouts  rise  above  the  screaming  fifes  and 
rumbling   drums.      The  soldiers  are  the   force 
which  Colonel  Arnold  will  lead  against  Quebec. 
Young,  athletic — to  the  last  man  they  have  been 
drawn  from  the  farms.     Resenting  discipline, 
2? 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

untaught  of  drill,  their  disorder  has  in  it  more 
of  the  mob  than  the  military.  However,  their 
eyes  like  their  hopes  are  bright,  and  one  may 
read  in  the  healthy,  cheerful  faces  that  each 
holds  himself  privily  to  be  of  the  raw  materials 
from  which  generals  are  made. 

Down  in  the  harbor  eleven  smallish  vessels 
ride  at  anchor.  They  are  of  brigantine  rig,  each 
equal  to  transporting  one  hundred  men.  These 
will  carry  Colonel  Arnold  and  his  eleven  hun 
dred  militant  young  rustics  to  the  mouth  of  the 
Kennebec.  In  the  waist  of  every  vessel,  packed 
one  inside  the  other  as  a  housewife  arranges 
teacups  on  her  shelves,  are  twenty  bateaux. 
They  are  wide,  shallow  craft,  blunt  at  bow  and 
stern,  and  will  be  used  to  convey  the  expedition 
up  the  Kennebec.  Each  is  large  enough  to  hold 
five  men,  and  so  light  that  the  five,  at  portages 
or  rapids,  can  shoulder  it  with  the  dunnage 
which  belongs  to  them  and  carry  it  across  to 
the  better  water  beyond. 

The  word  of  command  runs  along  the  un 
polished  ranks;  the  column  begins  to  move  to 
ward  the  water  front,  taking  its  step  from  the 
incessant  drums  and  fifes.  Once  at  the  water, 
the  embarkation  goes  briskly  forward.  As  the 
troops  march  away,  the  crowds  follow;  for  the 
28 


COL.    ARNOLD    EXPLAINS 

day  in  Newburyport  is  a  gala  occasion  and  par 
takes  of  the  character  of  a  celebration.  No  one 
considers  the  possibility  of  defeat.  Every 
where  one  finds  optimism,  as  though  Quebec  is 
already  a  captured  city. 

Now  when  the  throngs  have  departed  with 
the  soldiery,  the  street  shows  comparatively  de 
serted.  This  brings  to  view  the  Eagle  Inn,  a 
hostelry  of  the  village.  In  the  doorway  of  the 
Eagle  a  man  and  woman  are  standing.  The 
woman  is  dashingly  handsome,  with  cheek  full 
of  color  and  a  bold  eye.  The  man  is  about 
thirty-five  in  years.  He  swaggers  with  a  for 
ward,  bragging,  gamecock  air,  which — the  basis 
being  a  coarse,  berserk  courage — is  not  alto 
gether  affectation.  His  features  are  vain,  sen 
sual,  turbulent;  his  expression  shows  him  to  be 
proud  in  a  crude  way,  and  is  noticeable  because 
of  an  absence  of  any  slightest  glint  of  principle. 
There  is,  too,  an  extravagance  of  gold  braid  on 
his  coat,  which  goes  well  with  the  superfluous 
feather  in  the  three-cornered  hat,  and  those  rus 
set  boots  of  stamped  Spanish  leather.  These 
swashbuckley  excesses  of  costume  bear  out  the 
vulgar  promise  of  his  face,  and  guarantee  that 
intimated  lack  of  fineness. 

The  pair  are  Colonel  Arnold  and  Madam 
29 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

Arnold.  She  has  come  to  see  the  last  of  her 
husband  as  he  sails  away.  While  they  stand 
in  the  door,  the  coach  in  which  she  will  make  the 
homeward  journey  to  Norwich  pulls  up  in  front 
of  the  Eagle. 

As  Colonel  Arnold  leads  his  wife  to  the  coach, 
he  is  saying:  "  No;  I  shall  be  aboard  within  the 
hour.  After  that  we  start  at  once.  I  want  a 
word  with  a  certain  Captain  Burr  before  I  em 
bark.  I've  offended  him,  it  seems;  for  he  is 
of  your  proud,  high-stomached  full-pursed  aris 
tocrats  who  look  for  softer  treatment  than  does 
a  commoner  clay.  I've  ordered  a  bottle  of  wine. 
As  we  drink,  I  shall  make  shift  to  smooth  down 
his  ruffled  plumage." 

"  Captain  Burr,"  repeats  Madam  Arnold, 
not  without  a  sniff  of  scorn.  "  And  you  are 
a  colonel !  How  long  is  it  since  colonels  have 
found  it  necessary  to  truckle  to  captains,  and, 
when  they  pout,  placate  them  into  good 
humor?  " 

"  My  dear  madam,"  returns  Colonel  Arnold 
as  he  helps  her  into  the  clumsy  vehicle,  "  per 
mit  me  to  know  my  own  affairs.  I  tell  you  this 
thin-skinned  boy  is  rich,  and  what  is  better  was 
born  with  his  hands  open.  Fie  parts  with  money 
like  a  royal  prince.  One  has  but  to  drop  a  hint, 

30 


COL.    ARNOLD    EXPLAINS 

and  presto !  his  hand  is  in  his  purse.  The  gold 
I  gave  you  I  had  from  him." 

As  the  coach  with  Madam  Arnold  drives 
away,  young  Aaron  is  observed  coming  up  from 
the  water  front.  His  costume,  while  as  rough 
as  that  of  the  soldiers,  has  a  fit  and  a  finish  to  it 
which  accents  the  graceful  gentility  of  his  man 
ner  beyond  what  satins  and  silks  might  do. 
Madam  Arnold's  bold  eyes  cover  him.  He 
takes  off  his  hat  with  a  gravely  accurate  flour 
ish,  whereat  the  bold  eyes  glance  their  pleasure 
at  the  polite  attention. 

Coach  gone,  Colonel  Arnold  seizes  young 
Aaron's  arm,  with  a  familiarity  which  fails  of 
its  purpose  by  being  overdone,  and  draws  him 
into  the  inn.  He  carries  him  to  a  room  where  a 
table  is  spread.  The  stout  landlady  by  way  of 
topping  out  the  feast  is  adding  thereunto  an 
apple  pie,  moonlike  as  her  face  and  its  sister 
for  size  and  roundness.  This,  and  the  roast 
fowl  which  adorns  the  center,  together  with 
a  bottle  of  burgundy  to  keep  all  in  counte 
nance,  invest  the  situation  with  an  atmosphere 
of  hope. 

"  Be  seated,  Captain  Burr,"  exclaims  the 
hearty  Colonel  Arnold,  as  the  two  draw  up  to 
the  table.  "  A  roast  pullet,  a  pie,  and  a  bottle 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

of  burgundy,  let  me  tell  you,  should  make  no 
mean  beginning  to  what  is  like  to  prove  a  hard 
campaign.  I  warrant  you,  sir,  we  see  worse 
fare  in  the  pine  wilderness  of  upper  Maine.  Let 
me  help  you  to  wine,  sir,"  he  continues,  after 
carving  for  himself  and  young  Aaron.  The 
latter,  as  cold  and  imperturbable  as  when,  in 
Dr.  Bellamy's  study,  he  shattered  the  designs  of 
that  excellent  preacher  by  preferring  law  to 
theology  and  war  to  either,  responds  to  this  hos 
pitable  politeness  with  a  bow.  u  Take  your 
glass,  Captain  Burr.  I  desire  to  drink  down  all 
irritations.  Yes,  sir,"  replacing  the  drained 
glass,  "  I  may  say,  without  lowering  myself  as 
a  gentleman  in  your  esteem,  that,  in  "giving  you 
the  order  to  see  the  troops  aboard,  I  had  no 
thought  of  affronting  you." 

"  It  was  not  your  orders  to  which  I  objected; 
it  was  to  your  manner.  If  I  may  say  so,  sir,  it 
was  a  manner  of  intolerable  arrogance,  one 
which  I  shall  brook  from  no  man." 

"Tush,  sir,  tush!  In  war  we  must  thicken 
our  hides.  We  are  not  to  be  sensitive.  We 
should  not  look  in  the  camps  for  the  manners 
of  a  king's  court.  What  you  mistook  for  arro 
gance  was  no  more  than  just  a  tone  of  com 
mand." 

32 


COL.    ARNOLD    EXPLAINS 

Colonel  Arnold's  delivery  of  this  is  meant  to 
be  conciliating.  Through  it,  however,  runs  an 
exasperating  vein  of  patronage,  due,  doubtless, 
to  his  superior  rank,  and  those  extra  fifteen  years 
wherein  he  overlooks  young  Aaron. 

"  Let  us  be  plain,  colonel,"  observes  young 
Aaron,  studying  his  wine  between  eye  and  win- 
dowpane.  "  I  hope  for  nothing  better  than 
concord  between  us.  Also,  every  order  you  give 
me  I  shall  obey.  None  the  less  I  ask  you  to 
observe  that  I  have  no  purpose  of  lowering  my 
self-respect  in  coming  to  this  war.  As  your  sub 
ordinate  I  shall  take  your  commands;  as  a  gen 
tleman,  the  equal  of  any,  I  must  be  treated  as 
such." 

Colonel  Arnold's  brow  is  red;  but  he  fills  his 
mouth  with  chicken  which  he  drenches  down 
with  wine,  and  so  restrains  every  fretful  expres 
sion.  After  a  moment  filled  of  wine  and 
chicken,  he  observes  carelessly : 

"  Say  no  more !  Say  no  more,  Captain  Burr! 
We  understand  one  another!  " 

'  There  is  no  more  to  say,"  returns  young 
Aaron  steadily.  "  And  I  beg  you  to  remember 
that  the  subject  is  one  which  you,  yourself,  pro 
posed.  I  am  through  when  I  state  that,  while 
I  object  to  no  man's  vanity,  no  man's  arrogance, 
4  33 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

I  shall  never  permit  him  to  transact  them  at  the 
expense  of  my  self-respect." 

Colonel  Arnold  turns  the  talk  to  what,  in  a 
wilderness  as  well  as  a  fighting  way,  lies  ahead. 
They  linger  over  pullet  and  burgundy  for  the 
better  part  of  an  hour,  and  get  on  as  well  as 
should  gentlemen  who  have  no  mighty  mutual 
liking.  As  they  prepare  to  go  aboard,  the  stout 
landlady  meets  them  in  the  hall.  Her  modest 
charges  are  to  be  met  with  a  handful  of  shil 
lings.  Colonel  Arnold  rummages  his  pockets, 
wearing  the  while  a  baffled  angry  air;  then  he 
falls  to  cursing  in  a  spirit  truly  military. 

"  May  the  black  fiend  seize  me !  "  says  he, 
"if  my  purse  has  not  gone  aboard  with  my  bag 
gage!" 

Young  Aaron  pays  the  score  with  an  indiffer 
ence  which  does  not  betray  a  conviction  that  the 
pocket-rummaging  is  a  pretence,  and  the  native 
money-meanness  of  his  coarse-faced  colonel  de 
signed  such  finale  from  the  first.  Score  settled, 
they  repair  to  the  water  front.  As  the  two  de 
part,  the  stout  landlady  of  the  Eagle  follows 
the  retreating  Colonel  Arnold  with  shocked,  in 
sulted  glance.  She  is  a  religious  woman,  and 
those  curses  have  moved  her  soul. 

"  Blaspheming  upstart!  "  she  mutters.  "  And 
34 


COL.    ARNOLD    EXPLAINS 

the  airs  he  takes  on !  As  though  folk  have  for 
gotten  that  within  the  year  he  stood  behind  his 
Norwich  counter  selling  pills  and  plasters !  " 

The  eleven  little  ships  voyage  to  the  mouth 
of  the  Kennebec  without  event.  The  bateaux 
are  launched,  and  the  eleven  hundred  high 
hearted  youngsters  proceed  to  pole  and  paddle 
their  way  up  the  river.  Where  the  currents  are 
overswift  they  tow  with  lines  from  the  banks. 
Finally  they  abandon  the  Kennebec,  and  shoul 
der  the  bateaux  for  a  scrambling  tramp  across 
the  pine-sown  watershed.  It  takes  days,  but  in 
the  end  they  find  themselves  again  afloat  on  the 
Dead  River.  This  stream  leads  them  to  the 
St.  Lawrence.  It  is  the  march  of  the  century! 
These  buoyant  young  rustics  through  the  un- 
traced  wilderness  have  come  six  hundred  miles  in 
fifty  days. 

Woodmen  born  and  bred,  this  long  push 
through  the  forests  is  no  surprising  feat  to  these 
who  perform  it.  They  scarcely  discuss  the  mat 
ter  as  they  crouch  about  their  camp  fires.  The 
big  topic  among  them  is  their  hatred  of  Colonel 
Arnold.  From  that  September  day  in  Newbury- 
port  his  tyranny  has  been  in  hourly  expression. 
Also,  it  seems  to  grow  with  time.  He  hectors, 
raves,  vituperates,  until  there  isn't  a  trigger  fin- 
35 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

ger  in  the  command  which  does  not  itch  to  shoot 
him  down.  Disdaining  to  aid  the  march  by 
carrying  so  much  as  a  pound's  weight — as  being 
work  beneath  his  exalted  rank — this  Caesar  of 
the  apothecaries  must  needs  have  his  special 
cooking  kit  along.  Also  his  tent  must  be 
pitched  with  the  coming  down  of  every  night. 
Men  hungry  and  unsheltered  all  around  him, 
he  sees  no  reason  why  he  should  not  sleep 
warmly  soft,  and  breakfast  and  dine  and  sup 
like  a  wilderness  Lucullus.  Thereat  the  farmer 
youth  grumble,  and  console  themselves  with 
slighting  remarks  and  looks  of  contumely. 

To  these  remarks  and  looks,  Colonel  Arnold 
is  driven  to  deafen  his  ears  and  offer  his  back. 
It  would  be  inconvenient  to  hear  and  see  these 
things;  since,  for  all  his  bullying  attitude,  he 
dare  not  crowd  his  followers  too  far.  Their 
unbroken  mouths  are  but  new  to  the  military 
bit;  a  too  cruel  pressure  on  the  bridle  reins 
might  mean  the  unhorsing  of  our  vanity-eaten 
apothecary.  As  it  is,  by  twos  and  tens  and 
twenties,  the  command  dwindles  away.  Every 
roll  call  discloses  fresh  desertions.  Wroth  with 
their  commander,  resolved  against  the  mean 
tyranny  of  his  rule,  when  the  party  reaches  the 
St.  Lawrence,  half  have  gone  to  a  right-about 

36 


COL.    ARNOLD    EXPLAINS 

and  are  on  their  way  home.  The  feather-headed 
Colonel  Arnold  finds  himself  with  a  muster  of 
five  hundred  and  fifty  where  he  should  have 
had  eleven  hundred.  And  the  five  hundred  and 
fifty  with  him  are  on  the  darkling  edge  of 
revolt. 

1(  Think  on  such  cur-hearts!"  cries  Colonel 
Arnold,  as  he  speaks  with  young  Aaron  of  those 
desertions  which  have  cut  his  force  in  two. 
"  Half  have  already  turned  tail,  and  the  other 
half  are  of  a  coward  mind  to  follow  their  mon 
grel  example.  I  would  sooner  command  a 
brigade  of  dogs!  " 

"  Believe  me,"  observes  young  Aaron,  icily 
acquiescent,  "  I  shall  not  contradict  your  pecu 
liar  fitness  for  the  command  you  describe." 

Being  thus  happily  delivered,  young  Aaron 
goes  round  on  his  imperturbable  heel  and  strolls 
away,  leaving  the  angry  Colonel  Arnold  glaring 
with  rage-congested  eye. 

"  Insolent  puppy!  "  the  latter  grits  between 
his  teeth. 

He  is  heedful,  however,  to  avoid  the  epithet 
in  the  presence  of  young  Aaron;  for,  in  spite  of 
that  rude  courage  which,  when  all  is  said,  lies 
at  the  root  of  his  nature,  the  ex-apothecary 
dreads  the  "  gentleman  volunteer,"  with  his 

37 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

black  ophidian  glance — so  balanced,  so  hard,  so 
vacant  of  fear! 

It  is  toward  the  last  of  November;  the  valley 
of  the  St.  Lawrence  seems  the  home  of  snow. 
Colonel  Arnold  grows  afraid  of  the  temper  of 
his  people.  As  they  push  slowly  through  the 
drifts,  their  angry  wrath  against  the  Caligula 
who  leads  them  is  only  too  thinly  veiled.  At 
this,  the  insolent  oppressions  of  our  ex-apothe 
cary  cease;  he  seeks  to  conciliate,  but  the  time 
is  overlate. 

Colonel  Arnold  goes  into  camp,  and  considers 
the  situation.  Even  if  his  followers  do  not 
wheel  suddenly  southward  for  home,  he  fears 
that  on  some  final  battle  day  they  will  refuse  to 
fight  at  his  command.  With  despair  gnawing 
at  his  heart,  he  decides  to  get  word  to  Gen 
eral  Montgomery,  who  has  conquered  and  is 
holding  Montreal.  The  giant  Irishman  is  the 
idol  of  the  army.  Once  he  appears,  the  grum 
blings  and  mutinous  murmurings  will  abate. 
The  rebellious  ones  will  go  wherever  he  points, 
fight  like  lions  at  his  merest  word. 

True,  the  coming  of  Montgomery  will  mean 
his  own  loss  of  command,  and  that  is  a  bitter 
pill.  Still,  since  he  may  do  no  better,  he  re 
solves  to  gulp  it.  Thus  resolving,  he  calls  young 

38 


COL.    ARNOLD    EXPLAINS 

Aaron  into  conference.  The  uneasy  tyrant 
hates  young  Aaron — hates  him  for  the  gold 
he  has  borrowed  from  him,  hates  him  for  his 
scarcely  concealed  contempt  of  himself.  None 
the  less  he  calls  him  into  council.  It  is  wis 
dom  not  friendship  his  case  requires,  and  he 
early  learned  to  value  the  long  head  of  our 
"  gentleman  volunteer." 

"  It  is  this,"  explains  Colonel  Arnold,  des 
perately.  "  We  have  not  the  force  demanded 
for  the  capture  of  Quebec.  We  must  get  word 
to  Montgomery.  He  is  one  hundred  and  twenty 
miles  away  in  Montreal.  The  puzzle  is  to  find 
some  one,  whom  we  can  trust  among  these 
French-speaking  native  Canadians,  who  will 
carry  my  message." 

Young  Aaron  knots  his  brows.  Colonel  Ar 
nold  watches  him  anxiously,  for  he  is  at  the  end 
of  his  resources.  Finally  young  Aaron  consults 
his  watch. 

"  It  is  now  ten  o'clock,"  he  says.  "  Nothing 
can  be  done  to-night.  And  yet  I  think  I  know 
the  man  for  your  occasion.  By  daybreak  I'll 
have  him  before  you." 


CHAPTER    IV 

THE    YOUNG    FRENCH    PRIEST 

THERE    are   many    deserted   log    huts 
along    the    St.    Lawrence.       Colonel 
Arnold  has  taken  up  his  quarters  in 
one  of  these.    It  is  eight  o'clock  of  the  morning 
following  the  talk  with  young  Aaron  when  the 
sentinel  at  the  door  reports  that  a  priest  is  asking 
admission. 

"  What  have  I  to  do  with  priests !  "  demands 
Colonel  Arnold.  "  However,  bring  him  in ! 
He  must  give  good  reasons  for  disturbing  me, 
or  his  black  coat  will  do  him  little  good." 

The  priest  is  clothed  from  head  to  heel  in 
the  black  frock  of  his  order.  The  frock  is 
caught  in  about  the  waist  with  a  heavy  cord. 
Down  the  front  depend  a  crucifix  and  beads. 
The  frock  is  thickly  lined  with  fur;  the  peaked 
hood,  also  fur-lined,  is  drawn  forward  over  the 
priest's  face.  In  figure  he  is  short  and  slight. 
As  he  peers  out  from  his  hood  at  Colonel  Ar- 
40 


THE     YOUNG     PRIEST 

nold,  his  black  eyes  give  that  commander  a  start 
of  uncertainty. 

"  I  suppose  you  speak  no  French?  "  says  the 
priest. 

His  accent  is  wretched.  Colonel  Arnold 
might  be  justified  in  retorting  that  his  visitor 
speaks  no  English.  He  restricts  himself,  how 
ever,  to  an  admission  that,  as  the  priest  sur 
mises,  he  has  no  French,  and  follows  it  with  a 
bluff  demand  that  the  latter  make  plain  his  er 
rand. 

"  Why,  sir,"  returns  the  priest,  glancing 
about  as  though  in  quest  of  some  one,  "  I  ex 
pected  to  find  Captain  Burr  here.  He  tells  me 
you  wish  to  send  a  message  to  Montreal." 

Colonel  Arnold  is  alert  in  a  moment;  his 
manner  undergoes  a  change  from  harsh  to 
suave. 

"  Ah !  "  he  cries  amiably;  "  you  are  the  man." 
Then,  to  the  sentinel  at  the  door:  "  Send  word, 
sir,  to  Captain  Burr,  and  ask  him  to  come  at 
once  to  my  quarters." 

While  waiting  the  coming  of  young  Aaron, 
Colonel  Arnold  enters  into  conversation  with 
his  clerkly  visitor.  The  priest  explains  that  he 
hates  the  English,  as  do  all  Canadians  of  French 
stock.  He  is  only  too  willing  to  do  Colonel 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

Arnold  any  service  that  shall  tell  against 
them.  Also,  he  adds,  in  response  to  a  query, 
that  he  can  make  his  way  to  Montreal  in  ten 
days. 

"  There  are  farmer  and  fisher  people  all 
along  the  St.  Lawrence,"  says  he.  "  They  are 
French,  and  good  sons  of  mother  church.  I  am 
sure  they  will  give  me  food  and  shelter." 

The  sentinel  comes  lumbering  in,  and  reports 
that  young  Aaron  is  not  to  be  found. 

"  That  is  sheer  nonsense,  sir!  "  fumes  Colonel 
Arnold.  "  Why  should  he  not  be  found?  He 
is  somewhere  about  camp.  Fetch  him  in 
stantly!  " 

When  the  sentinel  again  departs,  the  priest 
frees  his  face  of  the  obscuring  hood. 

"  Your  sentinel  is  right,"  he  says.  "  Captain 
Burr  is  not  at  his  quarters." 

Colonel  Arnold  stares  in  amazement;  the 
priest  is  none  other  than  our  "  gentleman  vol 
unteer."  Perceiving  Colonel  Arnold  gazing  in 
curious  wonder  at  his  clerkly  frock,  young 
Aaron  explains. 

"  I  got  it  five  days  back,  at  that  monastery 
we  passed.     You  recall  how  I  dined  there  with 
the  Brothers.     I  thought  then  that  just  such  a 
peaceful  coat  as  this  might  find  a  use." 
42 


THE     YOUNG     PRIEST 

"  Marvelous !  "  exclaims  Colonel  Arnold. 
"  And  you  speak  French,  too?  " 

u  French  and  Latin.  I  have,  you  see,  the  ver 
bal  as  well  as  outward  furnishings  of  a  priest  of 
these  parts." 

"  And  you  think  you  can  reach  Montgomery? 
I  have  to  warn  you,  sir,  that  the  work  will  be  ex 
tremely  delicate  and  the  danger  great." 

"  I  shall  be  equal  to  the  work.  As  for  the 
peril,  if  I  feared  it  I  should  not  be  here." 

It  is  arranged;  and  young  Aaron  explains  that 
he  is  prepared,  indeed,  prefers,  to  start  at  once. 
Moreover,  he  counsels  secrecy. 

"  You  have  an  Indian  guide  or  two,  about 
you,"  says  he,  "  whom  I  do  not  trust.  If  my 
errand  were  known,  one  of  them  might  cut  me 
off  and  sell  my  scalp  to  the  English." 

When  Colonel  Arnold  is  left  alone,  he  gives 
himself  up  to  a  consideration  of  the  chances  of 
his  message  going  safely  to  Montreal.  He  sits 
long,  with  puckered  lips  and  brooding  eye. 

"  In  any  event,"  he  murmurs,  "  I  cannot  fail 
to  be  the  better  off.  If  he  reach  Montgomery, 
that  is  what  I  want.  On  the  other  hand,  should 
he  fall  a  prey  to  the  English  I  shall  think  it  a 
settlement  of  what  debts  I  owe  him.  Yes;  the 
latter  event  would  mean  three  hundred  pounds 
43 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

to  me.  Either  way  I  am  rid  of  one  whose  cool 
superiorities  begin  to  smart.  Himself  a  gen 
tleman,  he  seems  never  to  forget  that  I  am  an 
apothecary." 

Young  Aaron  is  twenty  miles  nearer  Mon 
treal  when  the  early  winter  sun  goes  down.  For 
ten  days  he  plods  onward,  now  and  again  lying 
by  to  avoid  a  roving  party  of  English.  As  he 
foretold,  every  cabin  is  open  to  the  "  young 
priest."  He  but  explains  that  he  has  cause  to 
fear  the  redcoats,  and  with  that  those  French 
Canadians,  whom  he  meets  with,  keep  nightly 
watch,  while  couching  him  warmest  and  soft 
est,  and  feeding  him  on  the  best.  At  last  he 
reaches  General  Montgomery,  and  tells  of  Colo 
nel  Arnold  below  Quebec. 

General  Montgomery,  a  giant  in  stature,  has 
none  of  that  sluggishness  so  common  with  folk 
of  size.  In  twenty-four  hours  after  receiving 
young  Aaron's  word,  he  is  off  to  make  a  junc 
tion  with  Colonel  Arnold.  He  takes  with  him 
three  hundred  followers,  all  that  may  be  spared 
from  Montreal,  and  asks  young  Aaron  to  serve 
on  his  personal  staff. 

They  find  Colonel  Arnold,  with  his  five  hun 
dred  and  fifty,  camped  under  the  very  heights 
of  Quebec.  The  garrison,  while  quite  as  strong 
44 


THE     YOUNG     PRIEST 

as  is  his  force,  have  not  once  molested 
him.  They  leave  his  undoing  to  the  cold  and 
snow,  and  that  starvation  which  is  making 
gaunt  the  faces  and  shortening  the  belts  of  his 
men. 

General  Montgomery  upon  his  arrival  takes 
command.  Colonel  Arnold,  while  foreseeing 
this — since  even  his  vanity  does  not  conceive  of 
a  war  condition  so  upside  down  that  a  colonel 
gives  orders  to  a  general — cannot  avoid  a  fit  of 
the  sulks.  He  is  the  more  inclined  to  be  moody, 
because  the  coming  of  the  big  Irishman  has 
visibly  brightened  his  people,  who  for  months 
have  been  scowls  and  clouds  to  him.  Now  the 
face  of  affairs  is  changed;  the  mutinous  ones 
have  nothing  save  cheers  for  the  big  general 
whenever  he  appears. 

General  Montgomery  calls  a  conference,  and 
Colonel  Arnold  comes  with  all  his  officers.  At 
the  request  of  young  Aaron,  the  big  general  re 
tains  him  by  his  side.  This  does  not  please  the 
ex-apothecary,  it  hurts  his  self-love  that  the 
"  gentleman  volunteer  "  is  so  obviously  pleased 
to  be  free  of  his  company.  At  the  conference, 
General  Montgomery  advises  all  to  hold  them 
selves  in  readiness  for  an  assault  upon  the  Eng 
lish  walls. 

45 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

"  I  cannot  tell  the  night,"  he  observes;  u  I 
only  say  that  we  shall  attack  during  the  first 
snowstorm  that  occurs.  It  may  come  in  an  hour, 
wherefore  be  ready!  " 

The  storm  which  is  to  mask  the  movements 
of  General  Montgomery  does  not  keep  folk 
waiting.  There  soon  falls  a  midnight  which 
is  nothing  save  a  blinding  whirling  sheet  of 
snow.  Thereupon  the  word  goes  through  the 
camp. 

The  assault  is  to  be  made  in  two  columns, 
General  Montgomery  leading  one,  Colonel  Ar 
nold  the  other.  Young  Aaron  will  be  by  the 
elbow  of  the  big  Irishman.  By  way  of  aiding, 
a  feigned  attack  is  ordered  for  a  far  corner  of 
the  English  works. 

As  the  soldiers  fall  into  their  ranks,  the 
storm  fairly  swallows  them  up.  It  would  seem 
as  though  none  might  live  in  such  a  tempest — 
white,  ferociously  cold,  Arctic  in  its  fury !  It  is 
desperate  weather !  the  more  desperate  when 
faced  by  ones  whose  courage  has  been  dimin 
ished  by  privation.  But  the  strong  heart  of 
General  Montgomery  listens  to  no  doubts.  He 
will  lead  out  his  eight  hundred  and  fifty  against 
an  equal  force  that  have  been  sleeping  warm  and 
eating  full,  while  his  own  were  freezing  and 


BRITISH  REINFORCEMENTS  LANDING  AT  QUEBEC 


THE     YOUNG     PRIEST 

starving.  Also,  those  warm,  full-fed  ones  are 
behind  stone  walls,  which  the  lean,  frozen  ones 
must  scale  and  capture. 

"  I  shall  give  you  ten  minutes'  start,"  ob 
serves  General  Montgomery  to  Colonel  Arnold. 
"  You  have  farther  to  go  than  we  to  gain  your 
position.  I  shall  wait  ten  minutes;  then  I  shall 
press  forward." 

Colonel  Arnold  moves  off  with  his  column 
through  the  driving  storm.  When  those  ten 
minutes  of  grace  have  elapsed,  General  Mont 
gomery  gives  his  men  the  word  to  advance. 

They  urge  their  difficult  way  up  a  ravine, 
snow  belt-deep.  There  is  an  outer  work  of 
blockhouse  sort  at  the  head  of  the  defile.  It 
is  of  solid  mason  work,  two  stories,  crenelled 
above  for  muskets,  pierced  below  for  two  twelve- 
pounders-  This  must  be  reduced  before  the 
main  assault  can  begin. 

As  General  Montgomery,  with  young  Aaron 
on  the  right,  the  column  in  broken  disorder  at 
his  heels,  nears  the  blockhouse,  a  dog,  more 
wakeful  than  the  English,  is  heard  to  bark. 
That  bark  turns  out  the  redcoat  garrison  as 
though  a  trumpet  called. 

"Forward!"   cries  General   Montgomery. 

The  men  respond;  they  rush  bravely  on.  The 
47 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

blockhouse,  dully  looming  through  the  storm, 
is  no  more  than  forty  yards  away. 

Suddenly  a  red  tongue  of  flame  licks  out  into 
the  snow  swirl,  to  be  followed  by  the  roar  of 
one  of  the  twelve-pounders.  In  quick  response 
comes  the  roar  of  its  sister  gun,  while,  from 
the  loopholes  above,  the  muskets  crackle  and 
splutter. 

It  is  blind  cannonading;  but  it  does  its  work 
as  though  the  best  artillerist  is  training  the  guns 
at  brightest  noonday.  The  head  of  the  assault 
ing  column  is  met  flush  in  the  face  with  a  sleet 
of  grapeshot. 

General  Montgomery  staggers;  and  then, 
without  a  word,  falls  forward  on  his  face  in  the 
snow.  Young  Aaron  stoops  to  raise  him  to 
his  feet.  It  is  of  no  avail;  the  big  Irishman  is 
dead. 

The  bursting  roar  of  the  twelve-pounders  is 
heard  again.  As  if  to  keep  their  general  com 
pany,  a  dozen  more  give  up  their  lives. 

"  Montgomery  is  slain!  " 

The  word  zigzags  along  the  ragged  column. 
It  is  a  daunting  word !  The  men  begin  to  give 
way. 

Young  Aaron  rushes  into  their  midst,  and 
seeks  to  rally  them.  He  might  as  well  attempt 


THE     YOUNG     PRIEST 

to  stay  the  whirling  snow  in  its  dance!  The 
men  will  follow  none  save  General  Montgom 
ery;  and  he  is  dead. 

Slowly  they  fall  backward  along  the  ravine 
up  which  they  climbed.  Again  the  two  twelve- 
pounders  roar,  and  a  raking  hail  of  grape  sings 
through  the  shaking  ranks.  More  men  are 
struck  down !  That  backward  movement  be 
comes  a  rout. 

Young  Aaron  loses  the  icy  self-control  which 
is  his  distinguishing  trait.  He  buries  the  re 
treating  ones  beneath  an  avalanche  of  curses, 
drowns  them  with  a  cataract  of  scorn. 

"What!"  he  cries.  "  Will  you  leave  your 
general's  body  in  their  hands?  " 

He  might  have  spared  himself  the  shouting 
effort.  Already  he  is  alone  with  the  dead. 

"  It  is  better  company  than  that  of  cowards !  " 
is  his  bitter  cry,  as  he  bends  above  the  stark 
form  of  his  chief. 

The  English  are  pouring  from  the  blockhouse. 
Still  young  Aaron  will  not  leave  the  dead 
Montgomery  behind.  Now  are  the  steel-like 
powers  of  his  slight  frame  manifest.  With  one 
effort,  he  swings  the  giant  body  to  his  shoul 
der,  and  plunges  off  down  the  defile,  the  eager 
blood-hungry  redcoats  not  a  dozen  rods  behind. 
5  49 


CHAPTER    V 

THE    WRATH    OF    WASHINGTON 

THE  gray  morning  finds  the  routed  ones 
in   their   old   camp   by   the  St.   Law 
rence.      Colonel  Arnold's  assault  has 
also    failed.      The    ex-apothecary    received    a 
slight  wound,   and  is  vastly  proud.      It  is  his 
left  arm  that  was  hurt,    and  of   it  he  makes 
a  mighty  parade,  slinging  it  in  a  rich  crimson 
sash. 

Colonel  Arnold,  now  in  command,  does  not 
attempt  another  assault,  but  contents  himself 
with  maneuvering  his  slender  forces  on  the 
plain  in  tantalizing  view  of  the  redcoat  foe. 
He  sends  a  flag  of  truce  to  the  foot  of  the  walls, 
with  a  sprightly  challenge  to  their  defenders,  in 
viting  them  to  come  out  and  fight.  The  Quebec 
commander,  being  a  soldier  and  no  mad  knight 
errant,  refuses  to  be  thus  romantic.  The  winter 
is  deepening;  he  will  leave  the  vaporing  Colo 
nel  Arnold  to  fight  a  battle  with  the  thermom- 

50 


WRATH    OF    WASHINGTON 

eter.  Also,  General  Burgoyne,  at  the  head  of 
an  army,  is  pointed  that  way. 

His  maneuverings  ignored,  his  challenge  de 
clined,  Colonel  Arnold  puts  in  an  entire  night 
framing  a  demand  for  the  instant  surrender  of 
Quebec.  This  he  is  at  pains  to  couch  in  terms 
of  insult,  peppering  it  from  top  to  bottom  with 
biting  taunts.  He  closes  with  a  threat  that, 
should  the  English  commander  fail  to  lower 
his  flag,  he  will  conquer  the  city  at  the  point  of 
the  sword,  and  put  the  garrison  to  disgraceful 
death  by  gibbet  and  halter.  When  he  has  com 
pleted  this  precious  manifesto,  he  seeks  out 
young  Aaron,  and  commands  him  to  carry  it  in 
person  to  the  city's  gates.  As  Colonel  Arnold 
tenders  the  letter,  young  Aaron  puts  his  hands 
behind  him. 

"  Before  I  take  it,  sir,"  says  he,  "  I  should 
like  to  hear  it  read." 

Young  Aaron's  contempt  for  the  ex-apothe 
cary  has  found  increase  with  every  day  since  the 
death  of  Montgomery.  Those  braggadocio 
maneuverings,  the  foolish  challenge  to  come  out 
and  fight,  have  filled  him  with  disgust.  They 
shock  by  stress  of  their  innate  cheap  vulgarity. 
He  is  of  no  mind  to  lend  himself  to  any  kindred 
buffoonery. 

51 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

"  Do  you  refuse  my  orders,  sirrah?"  cries 
Colonel  Arnold,  falling  into  a  dramatic  fume. 

"  I  refuse  nothing!  I  say  that  I  shall  carry 
no  letter  until  I  know  its  contents.  I  warn  you, 
sir,  I  am  not  to  be  *  ordered,'  as  you  call  it, 
into  a  false  position  by  any  man  alive." 

Young  Aaron's  face  is  getting  white;  there  is 
a  dangerous  sparkle  in  the  black  ophidian  eyes. 
Colonel  Arnold  reads  these  symptoms,  and 
draws  back.  Still,  he  maintains  a  ruffling  front. 

"  Sir!  "  says  he  haughtily;  "  you  should 
think  on  your  subordinate  rank,  and  on  your 
youth,  before  you  pretend  to  overlook  my  con 
duct." 

"  My  subordinate  rank  shall  not  detract  from 
my  quality  as  a  gentleman.  As  for  my  youth,  I 
shall  prove  old  enough,  I  trust,  to  make  safe  my 
honor.  I  say  again,  I'll  not  touch  your  letter 
till  I  hear  it  read." 

"  Remember,  sir,  to  whom  you  speak!  " 

"  I  shall  remember  what  I  mentioned  at  the 
Eagle  Inn;  I  shall  remember  my  self-respect." 

Colonel  Arnold  fixes  young  Aaron  with  a  su 
perior  stare.  If  it  be  meant  for  his  confusion, 
it  meets  failure  beyond  hope.  The  black  eyes 
stare  back  with  so  much  of  iron  menace  in  them, 
as  to  disconcert  the  personage  of  former  drugs. 
52 


WRATH    OF    WASHINGTON 

He  feels  them  play  upon  him  like  two  black 
rapier  points.  His  assurance  breaks  down;  his 
lofty  determination  oozes  away.  With  gaze 
seeking  the  floor,  his  ruddy,  wine-marked  coun 
tenance  flushes  doubly  red. 

"  Since  you  make  such  a  swelter  of  the  busi 
ness,"  he  grumbles,  "  I,  for  my  own  sake,  shall 
now  ask  you  to  read  it.  I  would  have  you  know, 
sir,  that  I  understand  the  requirements  as  well 
as  the  proprieties  of  my  position." 

Colonel  Arnold  tears  open  the  letter  with  a 
flourish,  and  gives  it  to  young  Aaron.  The  lat 
ter  reads  it;  and  then,  with  no  attempt  to  palliate 
the  insult,  throws  it  on  the  floor. 

"  Sir,"  cries  Colonel  Arnold,  exploding  into  a 
sudden  blaze  of  wrath,  "  I  was  told  in  Cam 
bridge,  what  my  officers  have  often  told  me 
since,  that  you  are  a  bumptious  young  fool ! 
Many  times  have  I  been  told  it,  sir;  and,  until 
now,  I  did  you  the  honor  to  disbelieve  it." 

Young  Aaron  is  cold  and  sneering.  "  Sir,"  he 
retorts,  "  see  how  much  more  credulous  I  am 
than  are  you.  I  was  told  but  once  that  you  are 
a  bragging,  empty  vulgarian,  and  I  instantly  be 
lieved  it." 

The  pair  stand  opposite  one  another,  glances 
crossing  like  sword  blades,  the  insulted  letter  on 

53 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

the  floor  between.  It  is  Colonel  Arnold  who 
again  gives  ground.  Snapping  his  fingers,  as 
though  breaking  off  an  incident  beneath  his  ex 
alted  notice,  he  goes  about  on  his  heel. 

"  Ah!  "  says  young  Aaron;  "  now  that  I  see 
your  back,  sir,  I  shall  take  my  leave." 

The  winter  days,  heavy  and  leaden  and  chill, 
go  by.  Colonel  Arnold  continues  those  maneu- 
verings  and  challengings,  those  struttings  and 
vaporings.  At  last  even  his  coxcomb  vanity 
grows  weary,  and  he  thinks  on  Montreal.  One 
morning,  with  all  his  followers,  he  marches  off 
to  that  city,  still  held  by  the  garrison  that  Mont 
gomery  left  behind.  Established  in  Montreal 
he  comports  himself  as  becomes  a  conqueror, 
expanding  into  pomp  and  license,  living  on  the 
fat,  drinking  of  the  strong.  And  day  by  day 
Burgoyne  is  drawing  nearer. 

Broad  spring  descends ;  a  green  mist  is  visible 
in  the  winter-stripped  trees.  The  rumors  of 
Burgoyne's  approach  increase  and  prove  dis 
quieting.  Colonel  Arnold  leads  his  people  out 
of  Montreal,  and  plunges  southward  into  the 
wilderness.  He  pitches  camp  on  the  river 
Sorel. 

Since  the  incident  of  the  letter,  young  Aaron 
has  held  no  traffic,  polite  or  otherwise,  with 
54 


WRATH     OF    WASHINGTON 

Colonel  Arnold.  The  "  gentleman  volunteer  " 
sees  lonesome  days;  for  he  has  made  no  friends 
about  the  camp.  The  men  admire  him,  but  offer 
him  no  place  in  their  hearts.  A  boy  in  years, 
with  a  beardless  girl's  face,  he  gives  himself  the 
airs  of  gravest  manhood.  His  atmosphere, 
while  it  does  not  repel,  is  not  inviting.  Men 
hold  aloof,  as  though  separated  from  him  by  a 
gulf.  He  tells  no  stories,  cracks  no  jests.  His 
manner  is  one  of  careless  nonchalance.  In 
truth,  he  is  so  much  engaged  in  upholding  his 
young  dignity  as  to  leave  him  no  time  to  be  pop 
ular.  His  bringing  off  the  dead  Montgomery, 
under  fire  of  the  English,  has  been  told  and  re 
told  in  every  corner  of  the  camp.  This  gains 
him  credit  for  a  heart  of  fire,  and  a  fortitude 
without  a  flaw.  On  the  march,  too,  he  faces 
every  hardship,  shirks  no  work,  but  meets  and 
does  his  duty  equal  with  the  *best.  And  yet 
there  is  that  cool  reserve,  which  denies  the 
thought  of  comradeship  and  holds  friendly  folk 
at  bay.  With  them,  yet  not  of  them,  the  men 
about  him  cannot  solve  the  conundrum  of  his 
nature ;  and  so  they  leave  him  to  himself.  They 
value  him,  they  respect  him,  they  hold  his  cour 
age  above  proof;  there  it  ends. 

Young  Aaron,  aware  of  his  lonely  position, 

55 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

does  nothing  to  change  it.  He  is  conceitedly 
pleased  with  things  as  they  are.  It  is  the  old 
head  on  the  young  shoulders  that  thus  gets  In 
his  way;  Washington  was  right  in  his  philoso 
phy.  Young  Aaron,  however,  is  as  content  with 
that  head,  as  in  those  old  Bethlehem  days,  when 
he  patronized  Dr.  Bellamy,  and  declared  for 
the  gospel  according  to  Lord  Chesterfield. 

None  the  less  young  Aaron  is  not  wholly  satis 
fied.  As  he  idles  about  the  camp  by  the  Sorel, 
he  feels  that  any  present  chance  of  conquering 
the  fame  and  power  he  came  seeking  in  this  war 
is  closed  against  him. 

"  Plainly,"  counsels  the  old  head  on  the 
young  shoulders,  "  it  is  time  to  bring  about  a 
change." 

Colonel  Arnold  is  smitten  of  surprise  one 
afternoon,  when  young  Aaron  walks  into  his 
tent.  He  does  his  best  to  hide  that  surprise,  as 
an  emotion  at  war  with  his  high  military  station. 
Young  Aaron,  ever  equal  to  a  rigid  etiquette, 
salutes  profoundly. 

"  Colonel  Arnold,"  says  he,  "  I  am  here  to 
return  into  your  hands  that  rank  of  captain, 
which  I  hold  only  by  courtesy.  Also,  I  desire  to 
tell  you  that  I  leave  for  Albany  at  once." 

"  Albany!" 

56 


WRATH     OF    WASHINGTON 

"  My  canoe  is  waiting,  sir.  I  start  imme 
diately." 

"  I  forbid  your  going,  sir!  " 

Colonel  Arnold  has  recovered  his  breath,  and 
makes  this  proclamation  grandly.  Privately,  he 
is  aquake;  for  he  does  not  know  what  stories 
young  Aaron  might  tell  in  the  south. 

"  Sir,"  he  repeats,  "  I  forbid  your  departure! 
You  must  not  go !  " 

"Must  not?" 

As  though  answering  his  own  query,  young 
Aaron  leaves  Colonel  Arnold  without  further 
remark,  and  walks  down  to  the  river,  where 
a  canoe  is  waiting.  The  latter  cranky  con 
trivance  is  manned  by  a  quartette  of  Cana 
dians,  who  sit,  paddle  in  fist,  ready  for  the 
word  to  start. 

At  this  decisive  action,  Colonel  Arnold  is 
roused.  He  springs  to  his  feet  and  follows  to 
the  waiting  canoe.  Young  Aaron  has  just  taken 
his  place. 

"  Captain  Burr,"  cries  Colonel  Arnold, 
"  what  does  this  mean?  You  heard  my  orders, 
sir !  You  must  not  go !  " 

Young  Aaron  is  ashore  like  a  flash.  "  Colo 
nel  Arnold,"  says  he,  "  it  is  quite  possible  that 
you  have  force  enough  at  hand  to  detain  me.  Be 
57 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

warned,  however,  that  the  exercise  of  such  force 
will  have  a  sequel  serious  to  yourself." 

u  Oh,  as  to  that,"  responds  Colonel  Arnold 
sullenly,  "  I  shall  not  attempt  to  detain  you. 
I  simply  leave  you  to  the  responsibility  of  de 
parting  in  the  teeth  of  my  orders,  sir." 

In  a  moment  young  Aaron  is  back  in  the 
canoe;  the  four  paddles  churn  the  water  into 
baby  whirlpools,  and  the  slight  craft  glides  out 
upon  the  bosom  of  the  Sorel. 

Young  Aaron  encounters  a  party  of  Indians, 
and  conquers  their  friendship  with  diplomatic 
rum.  He  reaches  Albany,  and  tastes  the  de 
lights  of  fame ;  for  the  story  of  Quebec  has  pre 
ceded  him,  and  he  finds  himself  a  hero.  There 
upon,  while  outwardly  unmoved,  he  swells  in 
the  proud  but  secret  recesses  of  his  heart. 

In  New  York  he  meets  his  college  friend  Og- 
den,  who  tells  him  that  he  has  sold  Warlock  and 
spent  the  proceeds.  Likewise,  Colonel  Troup 
explains  how  he  received  a  thousand  pounds  for 
him  from  his  estate,  but  was  moved  to  borrow 
the  half  of  it,  having  a  call  for  such  sum.  Colo 
nel  Troup  gives  five  hundred  pounds  to  young 
Aaron,  who  receives  it  carelessly,  the  while 
assuring  his  debtor,  as  well  as  young  Ogden, 
who  spent  the  price  of  Warlock,  that  they  are 

58 


BENEDICT  ARNOLD 
From  an  etching  by  H.  B.  Hall,  New  Tork,  1879. 


WRATH     OF    WASHINGTON 

cheerfully  welcome  to  his  gold.  At  that,  both 
young  Ogden  and  Colonel  Troup  pluck  up 
a  generous  spirit,  and  borrow  each  another  fifty 
pounds;  which  sums  our  "gentleman  volun 
teer  "  puts  into  their  impoverished  fingers,  as 
readily  as  though  pounds  mean  groats  and  farth 
ings.  For  he  holds  that  to  be  niggard  of  money 
is  impossible  to  a  soldier  and  a  gentleman.  Did 
not  the  knight-errant  of  old  romaunts  go  chuck 
ing  gold-lined  purses  right  and  left,  into  every 
empty  outstretched  hand?  And  shall  not  young 
Aaron  be  the  modern  knight-errant  if  he 
chooses  ?  These  are  the  questions  which  he  puts 
to  himself,  as  he  ministers  to  the  famished 
finances  of  his  friends. 

General  Washington  learns  of  the  incident  of 
the  dead  Montgomery.  Having  a  conscience, 
he  is  distressed  by  the  thought  that  he  may  have 
been  harshly  unjust,  one  Cambridge  day,  to  our 
"  gentleman  volunteer."  The  conscience-smit 
ten  general  has  headquarters  in  New  York,  and 
now,  when  young  Aaron  arrives,  strives  to  make 
amends.  He  invites  that  youthful  campaigner 
to  a  place  upon  his  personal  staff,  with  the  rank 
of  major.  Young  Aaron  accepts,  and  becomes 
part  of  Washington's  military  family.  The 
general  is  living  at  Richmond  Hill,  a  mansion 
59 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

which  in  after  years  young  Aaron  will  buy  and 
make  his  residence. 

For  six  weeks  young  Aaron  is  with  Washing 
ton.  Sometimes  he  rides  out  with  him;  some 
times  he  writes  reports  and  orders  at  his  dicta 
tion;  always  he  dislikes  him.  He  finds  noth 
ing  in  the  Virginian  to  invoke  his  confidence 
or  compel  his  esteem.  In  the  finale  he  detests 
him. 

This  latter  mind  condition  is  vastly  built  up 
by  the  lack  of  notice  he  receives  from  the  ever- 
taciturn,  often-abstracted,  overworried  Wash 
ington.  The  big  general  will  sit  for  hours,  with 
brows  of  thought  and  pondering  eye,  as  heedless 
of  young  Aaron — albeit  in  the  same  room  with 
him — as  though  our  sucking  Maryborough  owns 
no  existence.  This  irritates  the  latter' s  pride;  for 
he  has  military  views  which  he  longs  to  unfold, 
but  cannot  because  of  the  grim  wordlessness  of 
his  chief.  He  resolves  to  break  the  ice. 

Washington  is  sitting  lost  in  thought.  "  Sir," 
exclaims  young  Aaron,  boldly  rushing  in  upon 
the  general's  meditations,  "  the  English  grow 
stronger.  Every  day  their  fleet  is  augmented  by 
new  ships,  bringing  fresh  troops.  Eventually 
they  will  land  and  drive  us  from  the  city.  When 
that  time  comes,  it  will  be  my  advice  to  burn 
60 


WRATH    OF    WASHINGTON 

New  York  to  the  ground,  and  leave  them  naught 
save  the  charred  ruins." 

Washington  pays  no  attention ;  it  is  as  though 
a  starling  spoke.  Presently  he  mounts  his  horse, 
and  soberly  rides  off  to  an  inspection  of  troops. 
Young  Aaron  is  mightily  mortified,  and,  by  way 
of  reestablishing  his  dignity  on  the  pedestal 
from  which  it  has  been  thrust,  neglects  a  line  of 
clerical  work  that  should  claim  his  attention. 
Washington  upon  his  return  discovers  this,  and 
having  a  temper  like  gunpowder  flashes  into  a 
rage. 

"What  does  this  mean,  sir?"  he  demands, 
angry  to  the  eyes. 

"  Why,  sir,"  responds  young  Aaron  coolly, 
"  I  should  think  it  might  mean  that  I  brought  a 
sword  not  a  pen  to  this  war." 

"  You  are  insolent,  sir!  " 

u  As  you  please,  sir.  But  since  you  say  it,  I 
must  ask  to  be  relieved  from  further  duty  on 
your  staff." 

The  big  general  stalks  from  the  room.  The 
next  day  he  transfers  young  Aaron  to  the  staff 
of  Putnam. 

"  I'm  sorry  he  offended  you,  general,"  says 
the  old  wolf  killer.     "  For  myself,  I'm  bound 
to  say  that  I  think  well  of  the  boy." 
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AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

"  There  is  a  word,"  returns  Washington,  "  as 
to  the  meaning  of  which,  until  I  met  him,  I  was 
ignorant;  that  is  the  word  *  prig.'  It  is  strange, 
too;  for  he  is  as  brave  as  Caesar.  I  have  it  on 
the  words  of  twenty.  Yes,  general,  your  '  gen 
tleman-volunteer  '  is  altogether  a  strangeling; 
for  he  is  one  of  those  anomalies,  a  courageous 
prig." 


CHAPTER    VI 

POOR    PEGGY    MONCRIEFFE 

ON  that  day  when  the  farmers  of  Con 
cord  turn  their  rifles  upon  King  George, 
there  dwells  in  Elizabeth  a  certain 
English  Major  Moncrieffe.  With  him  is  his 
daughter,  just  ceasing  to  be  a  girl  and  beginning 
to  be  a  woman.  Peggy  Moncrieffe  is  a  beauty, 
and,  to  tell  a  whole  truth,  confident  thereof 
to  the  verge  of  brazen.  When  her  father  is 
ordered  to  his  regiment  he  leaves  her  behind. 
The  war  to  him  is  no  more  than  a  riot;  he 
looks  to  be  back  in  Elizabeth  before  the  month 
expires. 

The  optimistic  Major  Moncrieffe  is  wrong. 
That  riot,  which  is  not  a  riot  but  a  revolution, 
spreads  and  spreads  like  fire  among  dry  grass. 
At  last  a  hostile  line  divides  him  from  his  daugh 
ter  Peggy.  This  is  serious;  for,  aside  from 
forbidding  any  word  between  them,  it  prevents 
him  sending  what  money  she  requires  for  her 

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AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

care.  In  her  distress  she  writes  General  Put 
nam,  her  father's  comrade  in  the  last  war  with 
the  French.  The  old  wolf  killer  invites  the 
desolate  Peggy  to  make  one  of  his  own  house 
hold.  When  young  Aaron  leaves  the  staff  of 
Washington,  Peggy  Moncrieffe  is  with  the  Put- 
nams,  whose  house  stands  at  the  corner  of 
Broadway  and  the  Battery. 

The  family  of  the  old  wolf  killer  is  made  up 
of  Madam  Putnam  and  two  daughters.  Peggy 
Moncrieffe  is  received  as  a  third  daughter  by  the 
kindly  Madam  Putnam.  Also,  like  a  third 
daughter,  she  is  set  to  the  spinning  wheel;  for, 
while  the  old  wolf  killer  fights  the  English, 
Madam  Putnam  and  her  daughters  work  early 
and  late,  with  spinning  wheel  and  loom,  cloth- 
making  for  the  continental  troops.  Peggy  Mon 
crieffe  offers  no  demur;  but  goes  at  the  spinning 
and  weaving  as  though  she  is  as  much  puritan 
and  patriot  as  are  those  about  her.  She  is  busy 
at  the  spinning  when  young  Aaron  is  pre 
sented.  And  in  that  presentation  lurks  a  peril; 
for  she  is  eighteen  and  he  is  twenty. 

Young  Aaron,  selfish,  gallant,  pleased  with  a 
pretty  face  as  with  a  poem,  becomes  flatteringly 
attentive  to  pretty  Peggy  Moncrieffe.  She,  for 
her  side,  turns  restless  when  he  leaves  her,  to 


POOR    PEGGY    MONCRIEFFE 

glow  like  the  sun  when  he  returns.  She  forgets 
the  spinning  wheel  for  his  conversation.  The 
two  walk  under  the  trees  in  the  Battery,  or,  from 
the  quiet  steps  of  St.  Paul's,  watch  the  evening 
sun  go  down  beyond  the  Jersey  hills. 

Madam  Putnam  is  prudent,  and  does  not  like 
these  symptoms.  She  issues  a  whispered  man 
date  to  the  old  wolf  killer,  with  whom  her  word 
is  law.  Thereupon  he  sends  the  pretty  Peggy 
to  safer  quarters  near  Kingsbridge. 

That  is  to  say,  the  Kingsbridge  refuge,  to 
which  pretty  Peggy  reluctantly  retires,  is  safe 
until  she  arrives.  It  presently  becomes  a  theater 
of  danger,  since  young  Aaron  is  not  a  day  in 
discovering  a  complete  military  reason  for  visit 
ing  it.  The  old  wolf  killer  is  not  like  Wash 
ington;  there  are  no  foolish  orders  or  tedious 
dispatches  for  his  aide  to  write.  This  gives 
leisure  to  young  Aaron,  which  he  improves  in 
daily  gallops  to  Kingsbridge.  It  is  to  be  feared 
that  he  and  pretty  Peggy  Moncrieffe  find  walks 
as  shady,  and  prospects  as  pleasant,  and  mo 
ments  as  sweet,  as  when  they  had  the  Battery 
for  a  promenade  and  took  in  the  Jersey  hills 
from  the  twilight  steps  of  St.  Paul's.  Also,  the 
pretty  Peggy  no  longer  pleads  to  join  her  father; 
albeit  that  parent  has  just  been  sent  with  his 
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AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

regiment  to  Staten  Island,  not  an  hour's  sail 
away. 

This  contentment  of  the  pretty  Peggy  with 
things  as  they  are,  realarms  the  prudence  of 
Madam  Putnam,  who  regards  it  as  a  sign  most 
sinister.  Having  a  genius  to  be  military,  quite 
equal  to  that  of  her  old  wolf-killing  hus 
band,  she  attacks  this  dangerously  tender  situ 
ation  in  flank.  She  gives  her  commands  to  the 
old  wolf  killer,  and  at  once  he  blindly  obeys. 
He  dispatches  young  Aaron  on  a  mission 
to  Long  Island.  The  latter  is  to  look  up 
positions  of  defense,  so  as  to  be  prepared  for 
the  English,  should  they  carry  their  arms  in  that 
direction. 

In  two  days  young  Aaron  returns,  and  makes 
an  exhaustive  report;  whereat  the  old  wolf 
killer  breaks  into  words  of  praise.  This  duty 
discharged,  young  Aaron  is  into  the  saddle  and 
off,  clatteringly,  for  Kingsbridge.  The  old  wolf 
killer  sees  him  depart  and  says  nothing,  while 
a  cunning  twinkle  dances  in  the  old  gray  eye. 
Then  the  twinkle  subsides,  and  is  succeeded  by  a 
self-reproachful  doubt. 

"  He  might  have  married  her,"  he  observes 
tentatively  to  Madam  Putnam. 

"  Never ! "  returns  that  clear  matron.  "  Your 
66 


POOR    PEGGY    MONCRIEFFE 

young  Major  Burr  is  too  coolly  the  selfish  cal 
culating  egotist.  He  would  win  her  and  wear 
her  as  he  might  some  bauble  ornament,  and  cast 
her  aside  when  the  glitter  was  gone.  As  for 
marrying  her,  he'd  as  soon  think  of  marrying 
the  rings  on  his  fingers,  or  the  buckles  on  his 
shoes." 

Young  Aaron  comes  clattering  back  from 
Kingsbridge.  His  black  eyes  sparkle  wickedly; 
his  face,  usually  so  imperturbable,  is  the  seat  of 
an  obvious  anger.  Moreover,  he  seems  chok 
ingly  full  of  a  question,  which  even  his  ingenious 
self-confidence  is  at  a  loss  how  to  ask.  He  gets 
the  old  wolf  killer  alone. 

"  Miss  Moncrieffe !  "  he  breaks  forth. 
Then  he  proceeds  blunderingly:  "I  had  occa 
sion  to  go  to  Kingsbridge,  and  was  surprised  to 
find  her  gone."  The  last  concludes  with  a  ris 
ing  inflection. 

"  Why,  yes !  "  retorts  the  old  wolf  killer,  sum 
moning  the  innocence  of  a  sheep.  "  I  forgot  to 
tell  you  that,  seeing  an  opportunity,  I  yesterday 
sent  little  Peg  to  Staten  Island  under  a  flag  of 
truce.  She  is  with  her  father.  Between  us  " — 
here  he  sinks  his  voice  mysteriously — "  I  was 
afraid  the  enemy  might  find  some  way  to  use 
little  Peg  as  a  spy."  Young  Aaron  clicks  his 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

teeth  savagely,  but  says  nothing;  the  old  wolf 
killer  watches  him  with  the  tail  of  his  eye. 

The  "  gentleman  volunteer  "  strides  down  to 
the  sea  wall,  and  takes  a  long  and  mayhap  lov 
ing  look  at  Staten  Island,  with  the  wind-ruffled 
expanse  of  bay  between. 

And  there  the  romance  ends. 

Two  days  later  young  Aaron  is  sipping  his 
wine  in  black  Sam  Fraunces'  long  room,  the  pic 
ture  of  that  elegant  indifference  which  he  culti 
vates  as  a  virtue.  Already  the  fancy  for  poor 
Peggy  Moncrieffe  has  faded  from  the  agate  sur 
face  of  his  nature,  as  the  breath  mists  fade  from 
the  mirror's  face,  and  he  thinks  only  on  how 
and  when  he  shall  lay  down  his  title  of  major 
for  that  of  lieutenant  colonel. 

The  woman's  heart  is  the  heart  loyal.  While 
he  sips  wine  at  Fraunces',  and  weighs  the 
chances  of  promotion,  Peggy  the  forgotten 
finds  in  Staten  Island  another  Naxos,  and  like 
another  Ariadne  goes  weeping  for  that  Theseus 
who  has  already  lost  her  from  out  his  thoughts. 

It  is  unfortunate  that,  as  aide  to  the  old  wolf 
killer,  young  Aaron  is  not  provided  with  more 
work  for  hand  and  head.  As  it  is,  his  unfilled 
hours  afford  him  opportunity  to  think  and  talk 
unprofitably.  He  falls  to  criticising  Washing- 
68 


POOR    PEGGY    MONCRIEFFE 

ton  to  the  old  wolf  killer;  which  is  about  as  sapi 
ent  as  though  he  fell  to  criticising  Madam  Put 
nam  to  the  old  wolf  killer. 

"  Of  what  avail,"  cries  young  Aaron  one  af 
ternoon,  as  he  and  his  grizzled  chief  stroll  in 
the  Bowling  Green — "  of  what  avail  for  Gen 
eral  Washington  to  hold  the  city,  when  he  must 
give  it  up  at  last?  New  English  ships  show  in 
the  bay  with  the  coming  up  of  every  sun.  He 
would  be  wiser  if  he  withdrew  into  the  interior, 
and  so  forced  the  foe  to  follow  him.  This  would 
lose  them  the  backing  of  their  fleet,  from  which 
they  gain  not  only  supplies,  but  what  is  of  more 
consequence  a  kind  of  moral  support." 

The  old  wolf  killer  looks  at  his  opinionated 
aide  for  a  moment.  Then  without  replying  di 
rectly,  he  observes: 

"  Just  as  the  Christian  virtues  are  faith,  hope, 
and  charity,  so  the  military  virtues  are  courage, 
endurance,  and  silence.  And  the  greatest  of 
these  is  silence.  You  ought  always  to  remember 
that  a  soldier's  sword  should  be  immeasurably 
longer  than  his  tongue." 

Young  Aaron  reddens  at  what  he  feels  is  a 
rebuke.  The  following  day,  when  he  is  directed 
to  join  General  McDougal  on  Long  Island, 
he  is  glad  to  go. 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

"  He  has  had  too  little  to  do,"  explains  the 
old  wolf  killer  to  Madam  Putnam.  "  Like  all 
workless  folk  he  is  beginning  to  talk;  and  his 
is  the  sort  of  conversation  that  breeds  enemies 
and  brews  trouble." 

Young  Aaron  is  in  the  fight  on  Long  Island. 
Upon  the  retreating  back  of  that  lost  battle,  he 
supervises  the  crossing  of  the  troops  to  Manhat 
tan.  All  night,  cool  and  quick  and  vigilant,  he 
labors  on  the  Brooklyn  side  to  put  the  men 
aboard  the  transports.  When  the  last  is  across 
the  East  River,  he  himself  embarks,  bringing 
with  him  his  horse,  hog-tied,  in  the  bottom  of 
the  barge.  It  is  early  dawn  when  he  leads  the 
released  animal  ashore  on  the  Manhattan  side. 
Mounting  it,  with  two  fellow  officers,  he  rides 
northward  at  a  leisurely  gait,  a  half  mile  to  the 
rear  of  the  retreating  army. 

As  young  Aaron  and  his  companions  push 
north  toward  Kingsbridge,  they  come  across  the 
baggage  and  stores  of  a  battery  of  artillery. 
The  baggage  and  stores  have  been  but  the  mo 
ment  before  abandoned. 

"  It  looks,"  observes  young  Aaron,  who  is  as 

unruffled  as  upon  the  day  when  he  laid  down 

theology  for  law,  to  the  horrified  distress  of  Dr. 

Bellamy — "  it  looks  as  though  the  captain  of 

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POOR    PEGGY    MONCRIEFFE 

that  battery,  whoever  he  is,  has  permitted  these 
English  in  our  rear  to  get  unnecessarily  upon  his 
nerves.  There  is  no  such  close  occasion  as  to 
justify  the  abandonment  of  these  stores.  At 
least  he  should  have  destroyed  them." 

Twenty  rods  beyond,  he  finds  one  of  the  bat 
tery's  guns.  He  points  to  the  lost  piece  scorn 
fully. 

"  There,"  says  he,  "  is  the  pure  proof  of  some 
one's  cowardice !  " 

Spurring  on,  and  led  by  the  rumbling  sounds 
of  field  guns  in  full  retreat,  he  overtakes  the 
timid  ones  who  have  thrown  away  baggage  and 
gun.  The  captain  who  commands  is  a  youth 
no  older  than  young  Aaron.  As  the  latter  comes 
up,  the  boy  captain  is  urging  his  cannoneers  to 
double  speed. 

"  Let  me  congratulate  you,  captain,"  observes 
young  Aaron,  extravagantly  polite  the  better 
to  set  off  the  sneer  that  marks  his  manner,  "  on 
not  having  thrown  away  your  colors.  May  I 
ask  your  name?  " 

"  I,  sir,"  returns  the  artillery  youth,  as  much 
moved  of  resentment  at  young  Aaron's  sneer, 
as  is  possible  for  one  in  his  perturbed  frame, 
"  I,  sir,  am  Captain  Alexander  Hamilton." 

"  And  I,  sir,  am  Major  Burr.    Let  me  compli- 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

ment  you,  Captain  Hamilton,  for  the  ardor  you 
display  in  carrying  your  battery  forward.  One 
might  suppose  from  your  headlong  zeal  that 
the  English  forces  lie  in  that  direction.  I  must 
needs  say,  however,  that  the  zeal  which  casts 
away  its  stores  and  baggage,  and  leaves  a  gun 
behind,  is  ill  considered." 

Captain  Hamilton's  face  clouds  angrily;  but, 
since  he  is  thinking  more  on  the  English  than  on 
insults  that  perilous  morning,  he  does  not  re 
ply  to  the  taunt.  Young  Aaron,  feeling  the 
better  for  his  expressions  of  contempt,  wheels 
off  to  the  left  toward  the  Hudson,  leaving  the 
other  to  bring  on  his  battery  with  what  breath 
less  speed  he  may. 

"  Now,  had  that  Captain  Hamilton  been  in 
the  fight  on  Long  Island,"  remarks  young 
Aaron  to  his  companions,  "  the  hurry  he  shows 
might  have  found  partial  excuse.  As  it  is,  I 
hold  his  flight  too  feverish,  when  one  remembers 
that  it  is  from  an  enemy  which  as  yet  he  has 
personally  neither  faced  nor  seen." 

Young  Aaron  puts  in  divers  idle  months  at 
Kingsbridge.  His  conduct  on  Long  Island,  and 
during  the  retreat  of  the  army  toward  the  north, 
has  multiplied  his  fame  for"  an  indomitable 
hardihood.  Indeed  he  is  inclined  to  compliment 
72 


POOR    PEGGY    MONCRIEFFE 

himself;  though  he  hides  the  fact  defensively 
in  his  own  breast. 

This  good  opinion  of  his  services  teaches  him 
to  entertain  ambitions  of  the  vaulting,  not  to 
say  o'er-leaping  sort.  As  he  now,  by  the  light 
of  recent  achievement,  measures  his  merits  noth 
ing  short  of  a  colonelcy  and  the  leadership  of  a 
regiment  will  do  him  justice.  Conceive  then, 
how  deeply  he  feels  slighted  when  Washington 
fails  to  share  these  liberal  views,  and  promotes 
him  to  nothing  higher  than  that  lieutenant 
colonelcy  which  his  hopes  have  so  much  out 
grown.  He  accepts;  but  he  feels  the  title  fit 
him  with  an  awkward  nearness,  as  might  a  coat 
that  some  blundering  tailor  has  cut  too  small. 
The  letter  of  acceptance  which  he  indites  to 
Washington  includes  such  paragraphs  as  this : 

I  am  constrained  to  observe  that  the  late  date  of  my  ap 
pointment  as  lieutenant  colonel,  subjects  me  to  the  com 
mand  of  officers  who,  in  the  late  campaign,  were  my  juniors. 
With  due  submission,  sir,  I  should  like  to  know  whether  it 
was  misconduct  on  my  part  or  extraordinary  merit  on  theirs, 
which  has  thus  given  them  the  preference.  I  desire,  on  my 
part,  to  avoid  equally  the  character  of  turbulent  or  passive, 
but  as  a  decent  regard  to  rank  is  proper  and  necessary  I  hope 
the  concern  I  feel  in  this  matter  will  be  found  excusable  in  one 
who  regards  his  honor  next  to  the  welfare  of  his  country. 

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AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

The  old  wolf  killer  is  with  Washington 
when  that  harassed  commander  reads  young 
Aaron's  effusion.  With  an  exclamation  of 
wrath  the  big  general  tosses  it  across. 

"  By  all  that  is  ineffable!  "  he  cries,  "  read 
that.  Now  here  is  a  boy  gone  stark  staring  mad 
for  vanity!  A  stripling  of  twenty-one,  with 
face  as  hairless  as  an  egg,  and  yet  the  second 
rank  in  a  regiment  is  no  match  for  his  majestic 
deserts!  Putnam,"  he  continues,  as  the  old 
wolf  killer  runs  his  eye  over  the  letter,  "  that 
young  friend  of  yours  will  be  the  death  of  me 
yet !  As  I  told  you,  sir,  he  is  a  courageous  prig 
— yes,  sir,  a  mere  courageous  prig !  " 

"  What  reply  will  you  make?  It  should  be  a 
sharp  one." 

"  It  shall  be  none  at  all.  I'll  make  no  reply 
to  such  bombastic  fault-finding.  One  might  as 
well  pelt  a  pig  with  pearls,  as  waste  common 
sense  on  such  self-conceit  as  we  have  here.  Do 
me  the  honor,  Putnam,  to  write  this  boy-con 
queror  a  note,  saying  it  is  my  orders  that  he  join 
his  regiment  at  once." 

Young  Aaron  finds  the  regiment  to  which  he 
has  been  assigned  on  the  Ramapo,  a  day's  ride 
back  from  the  Hudson.  His  superior  in  com 
mand,  Colonel  Malcolm,  is  a  shop-keeping, 
74 


POOR    PEGGY    MONCRIEFFE 

amiable  gentleman,  as  short  of  breath  as  of  cour 
age,  who  would  as  soon  think  of  thrusting  his 
hand  into  the  embers  as  his  fat  body  into  battle. 
Preeminently  is  he  of  that  peculiar  war-feather 
that,  for  every  reason  in  favor  of  going  for 
ward,  can  give  a  dozen  for  falling  back. 
Perceiving  with  delight  young  Aaron  to  be  pos 
sessed  of  a  taste  for  carnage  as  well  as  com 
mand,  the  peace-loving  Colonel  Malcolm 
promptly  surrenders  the  regiment  into  his  hands. 

"  You  shall  drill  it  and  fight  it,"  says  he, 
"  while  I  will  be  its  father." 

With  this,  the  fat  Colonel  Malcolm  retires 
twenty  miles  farther  into  the  interior;  where  he 
joins  Madam  Malcolm,  as  fat  as  himself,  who 
unites  with  five  fat  children,  their  offspring,  to 
fatly  welcome  him. 

Young  Aaron,  now  when  he  finds  himself  in 
sole  control,  parades  the  regiment,  and  does  not 
like  its  appearance.  He  makes  it  a  speech,  and 
is  exceeding  frank.  He  explains  that  it  is  more 
fitted  to  shine  at  barbecues  and  barn-raisings 
than  in  war.  Then  he  grasps  it  with  a  daily 
hand  of  steel,  and  begins  to  crush  it  into  dis 
ciplined  shape.  From  break  of  morning  until 
the  sun  goes  down,  he  puts  it  through  its  paces. 
As  one  of  the  onlookers  remarks: 
75 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

"  He  drills  'em  till  their  tongues  hang  out." 

The  fruits  of  this  iron  rule,  so  much  a  change 
from  that  picnic  character  of  control  but  lately 
exercised  by  the  amiable  Colonel  Malcolm,  are 
twofold.  Young  Aaron  is  hated  and  respected 
by  every  soul  on  the  rolls.  Caring  nothing  for 
the  one  and  everything  for  the  other,  he  con 
tinues  to  drill  the  boots  off  their  feet.  Finally, 
the  regiment  ceases  to  look  like  a  mob,  and 
dons  a  military  expression.  At  which  young 
Aaron  is  privily  exalted. 

There  still  remain,  however,  a  round  score  of 
thorns  in  his  militant  flesh,  being  as  many  cap 
tains  and  lieutenants,  who  are  better  qualified 
for  the  drawing-room  than  the  field.  He  must 
rid  himself  of  this  element  of  popinjay. 

Since  young  Aaron  is  clothed  of  no  power 
of  dismissal  over  the  offensive  popinjays,  the 
situation  bristles  with  difficulties.  For  all  that 
they  must  go.  After  one  night's  thought,  he 
gets  up  from  his  cogitations  inclined  to  exclaim, 
like  another  Archimedes:  "I  have  found 
it!" 

Young  Aaron's  device  is  simplicity  itself. 
Having  no  power  of  dismissal,  he  will  usurp  it. 
Also,  he  will  assert  it  in  such  fashion  that  not 
a  popinjay  of  them  all  will  be  able  to  make  his 

.  76 


POOR    PEGGY    MONCRIEFFE 

dismissal  the  basis  of  military  inquiry,  and  keep 
his  credit  clean. 

Young  Aaron  writes,  word  for  word,  the 
same  letter  to  each  of  the  undesirable  popinjay 
ones.  He  words  it,  skillfully,  in  this  wise : 

SIR:  You  are  unfitted  for  the  duties  you  have  assumed. 
For  the  good  of  the  service  therefore,  I  demand  the  immedi 
ate  resignation  or  your  commission.  To  be  frank,  sir,  I 
think  you  lack  the  courage  to  lead  your  men  in  the  presence 
of  a  foe.  Should  I  be  wrong  in  this  assumption,  you  of 
course  will  demonstrate  that  fact  by  methods  which  read 
ily  suggest  themselves  to  every  gentleman  of  spirit.  Let  me 
therefore  urge  that  you  either  forward  your  resignation  as 
herein  demanded  by  me,  or  dispatch  in  its  stead  a  request  for 
that  satisfaction  which  I,  as  a  man  of  honor,  shall  not  for  one 
moment  deny.  I  beg  leave  to  remain,  sir, 

Your  very  humble  servant, 

AARON  BURR,  Acting  Colonel. 

"  There!  "  thinks  he,  when  the  last  letter  is 
signed,  sealed,  and  sent  upon  its  way  to  the  pop 
injay  hand  for  which  it  is  designed,  "  that  should 
do  nicely.  I've  ever  held  that  the  way  to  suc 
cessfully  deal  with  humanity  is  to  take  human 
ity  by  the  horns.  That  I've  done.  Likewise,  I 
flatter  myself  I've  constructed  my  net  so  fine  that 
none  of  them  can  wriggle  through.  And  as  for 
breaking  through  by  the  dueling  method  I  hint 

77 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

at,  I  shall  have  guessed  vastly  to  one  side,  if  the 
best  among  them  own  either  the  force  or  cour 
age  to  so  much  as  make  the  attempt." 

Young  Aaron  is  justified  of  his  perspicacity. 
The  resignations  of  the  popinjays  come  pouring 
in,  each  seeming  to  take  the  initiative,  and  bas 
ing  his  "  voluntary  "  abandonment  of  a  mili 
tary  career  on  grounds  wholly  invented  and 
highly  honorable  to  himself.  No  reference, 
even  of  the  blindest,  is  made  to  that  brilliant 
usurpation  of  authority.  Neither  is  young 
Aaron's  letter  alluded  to  in  any  conversation. 

There  is  one  exception;  a  popinjay  person 
age  named  Rawls,  retorts  in  a  hectic  epistle 
which,  while  conveying  his  resignation,  avows  a 
determination  to  welter  in  young  Aaron's  blood 
as  a  slight  solace  for  the  outrage  done  his  feel 
ings.  To  this,  young  Aaron  replies  that  he 
shall,  on  the  very  next  day,  do  himself  the  honor 
of  a  call  upon  the  ill-used  and  flaming  Rawls, 
whose  paternal  roof  is  not  an  hour's  gallop  from 
the  Ramapo.  Accordingly,  young  Aaron  re 
pairs  to  the  Rawls's  mansion  at  eleven  of 
next  day's  clock.  He  has  with  him  two  officers, 
who  are  dark  as  to  the  true  purpose  of  the  ex 
cursion. 

Young  Aaron  and  the  accompanying  duo  are 
78 


POOR    PEGGY    MONCRIEFFE 

asked  to  dinner  by  the  Rawls's  household.  The 
popinjay  fiery  Rawls  is  present,  but  embar 
rassed.  After  dinner,  when  young  Aaron  asks 
popinjay  Rawls  to  ride  with  his  party  a  mile 
or  two  on  the  return  journey,  the  fiery,  ill-used 
one  grows  more  embarrassed. 

He  does  not,  however,  ride  forth  on  that  sug 
gested  mission  of  honor;  his  alarmed  sisters,  of 
whom  there  are  an  angelic  three,  rush  to  his 
rescue  in  a  flood  of  terrified  exclamation. 

"  O  Colonel  Burr!  "  they  chorus,  "  what  are 
you  about  to  do  with  Neddy?" 

"  My  dear  young  ladies,"  protests  young 
Aaron  suavely,  u  believe  me,  I'm  about  to  do 
nothing  with  Neddy.  I  intend  only  to  ask  him 
what  he  desires  or  designs  to  do  with  me.  I 
am  here  to  place  myself  at  Neddy's  disposal,  in 
a  matter  which  he  well  understands." 

The  interfering  angelic  sisterly  ones  declare 
that  popinjay  Neddy  meant  nothing  by  his  let 
ter,  and  will  never  write  another.  Whereupon 
young  Aaron  observes  he  will  be  content  with 
the  understanding  that  popinjay  Neddy  send 
him  no  more  letters,  unless  they  have  been  first 
submitted  to  the  sisterly  censorship  of  the  an 
gelic  three.  To  this  everyone  concerned  most 
rapturously  consents;  following  which  young 

79 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

Aaron  goes  back  to  his  camp  by  the  Ramapo, 
while  the  sisterly  angelic  ones  festoon  them 
selves  about  the  neck  of  popinjay  Neddy,  over 
whom  they  weepingly  rejoice  as  over  one  re 
turned  from  out  the  blackness  of  the  shadow 
of  death. 


CHAPTER   VII 

THE    CONQUERING   THEODOSIA 

WHILE  young  Aaron,  in  his  camp  by 
the  Ramapo,  is  wringing  the  withers 
of  his  men  with  merciless  drills,  six 
teen  miles  away,  in  the  outskirts  of  the  village 
of  Paramus  dwells  Madam  Theodosia  Prevost. 
Madam  Prevost  is  the  widow  of  an  English 
Colonel  Prevost,  who  was  swept  up  by  yellow 
fever  in  Jamaica.  With  her  are  her  mother,  her 
sister,  her  two  little  boys.  The  family  name  is 
De  Visme,  which  is  a  Swiss  name  from  the 
French  cantons. 

The  hungry  English  in  New  York  are  run 
ning  short  of  food.  Two  thousand  of  them 
cross  the  Hudson,  and  commence  combing  the 
country  for  beef.  Word  of  that  cow-driving 
reaches  young  Aaron  by  the  Ramapo.  Hack- 
ensack  is  given  as  the  theater  of  those  beef  tri 
umphs  of  the  hungry  English. 

From  rustical  ones  bewailing  vanished  kine, 
7  81 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

young  Aaron  receives  the  tale  first  hand.  In 
stantly  he  springs  to  the  defense  of  the  conti 
nental  cow.  He  orders  out  his  regiment,  and 
marches  away  for  that  stricken  Hackensack 
region  of  ravished  flocks  and  herds. 

At  Paramus,  excited  by  stories  of  a  cow-con 
quering  English,  the  militia  of  the  neighbor 
hood  are  fallen  to  a  frenzied  building  of  breast 
works.  Certain  of  these  home  guards  look  up 
from  their  breastwork  building  long  enough  to 
decide  that  Madam  Prevost,  as  the  widow  of 
a  former  English  colonel,  is  a  Tory. 

Arriving  at  this  conclusion,  the  home  guards 
make  the  next  natural  step,  and  argue — because 
of  their  nearness  to  Madam  Prevost — that  the 
mother  and  sister  and  little  boys  are  Tories. 
The  quietly  elegant  home  of  Madam  Prevost  is 
declared  a  nest  of  Tories,  against  which  judg 
ment  a  belief  that  the  mansion  is  worth  looting 
is  not  allowed  to  militate. 

As  young  Aaron,  on  his  rescuing  way  to 
Hackensack,  marches  into  Paramus,  the  judg 
matical  home  guards,  in  the  name  of  a  patriot 
ism  which  believes  in  spoiling  the  Egyptian,  are 
about  to  begin  their  work  of  sack  and  pillage. 
Young  Aaron,  who  does  not  think  that  robbery 
assists  the  cause  of  freedom,  calls  a  halt.  He 
82 


CONQUERING    THEODOSIA 

drives  off  the  home  guards  at  the  point  of  his 
sword,  and  places  sentinels  upon  the  premises. 
Also  he  promises  to  hang  the  first  home  guard 
who,  in  the  name  of  liberty,  or  for  any  more 
private  reason,  touches  a  shilling's  worth  of 
Madam  Prevost's  chattels. 

Having  established  his  protectorate  in  favor 
of  the  threatened  Prevost  household,  young 
Aaron  enters,  hat  in  hand,  with  the  pardonable 
purpose  of  discovering  what  manner  of  folk  he 
has  pledged  himself  to  keep  safe.  It  may  be 
that  he  is  beset  by  visions  of  distressed  fair  ones 
— disheveled,  tearful,  beautiful!  If  so,  his 
dreams  receive  a  shock.  -Instead  of  that  flushed, 
frightened,  clinging,  tear-stained  loveliness,  so 
common  of  romance,  he  is  met  by  a  severely  an 
gular  lady  who,  plain  of  face,  with  high,  harsh 
cheek  bones,  and  a  scar  on  her  forehead,  is  two 
inches  taller  and  twelve  years  older  than  him 
self. 

Madam  Prevost  owns  all  these;  and  yet,  be 
yond  and  above  them,  she  also  possesses  an  in 
effable,  impalpable  something,  which  is  like  an 
atmosphere,  a  perfume,  a  melody  of  manner, 
and  marks  her  as  that  greatest  of  graceful  rari 
ties,  a  well-bred,  cultured  woman  of  the  world. 
Polished,  fine,  Madam  Prevost  is  familiar  with 

83 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

the  society  of  two  continents.  She  knows  litera 
ture,  music,  art ;  she  is  wise,  erudite,  nobly  high. 
These  attributes  invest  her  with  a  soft  brilliancy, 
into  which  those  uglinesses  and  bony  angularities 
retreat  as  into  a  kind  of  moonlight,  to  recur  in 
gentle  reassertion  as  the  poetic  sublimation  of  all 
that  charms. 

Thus  does  she  break  upon  young  Aaron — 
young  Aaron,  who  has  said  that  he  would  no 
more  love  a  woman  for  her  beauty  than  a  man 
for  his  money,  and  is  to  be  won  only  by  her 
who,  mentally  and  sentimentally,  meets  him 
half  way.  This  last  Madam  Prevost  does ;  and, 
from  the  moment  he  meets  her  to  the  hour  of 
her  death,  she  draws  him  and  holds  him  like  a 
magnet.  It  illustrates  the  inexplicable  in  love, 
that  this  cool,  cynical  one,  whose  very  youth  is 
an  iron  element  of  hardest  strength,  should  be 
fascinated  and  fettered  by  a  worn,  middle-aged 
woman  with  eyes  of  faded  gray. 

Young  Aaron,  on  this  first  encounter  with  his 
goddess,  remains  no  longer  than  is  required  to 
receive  the  arrow  in  his  heart.  He  presses  on 
with  his  followers  for  the  Hackensack.  A  mile 
from  Paramus  he  halts  his  soldiery,  and,  leav 
ing  the  great  body  of  them,  goes  forward  in 
person  with  a  scouting  party  of  seventeen.  In 

84 


CONQUERING     THEODOSIA 

the  middle  watches  of  the  night,  he  discovers 
a  picket  post  of  the  cow-collecting  English.  Only 
one  is  awake;  he  is  shot  dead  by  young  Aaron. 
The  others,  twenty-eight  in  number,  are  seized 
in  their  sleep. 

In  the  wake  of  this  exploit,  young  Aaron 
brings  up  his  whole  command.  The  cow-hunt 
ing  redcoats,  from  the  confidence  of  his  advance, 
infer  in  his  favor  an  overwhelming  strength. 
Panic  claims  them;  they  make  for  the  Hudson, 
leaving  those  collected  cows  behind.  There 
is  rejoicing  among  the  Hackensack  folk  at  this 
happy  return  of  their  property,  and  young 
Aaron  goes  back  to  the  Ramapo  rich  in  enco 
mium  and  praise. 

The  camp  by  the  Ramapo  is  given  up,  and 
young  Aaron,  love-drawn,  brings  his  force 
within  a  mile  of  Paramus.  Daily  he  seeks  the 
society  of  Madam  Prevost,  as  sick  folk  seek  the 
sun.  She  speaks  French,  Spanish,  German;  she 
reads  Voltaire,  and  is  capable  of  admiring  with 
out  approving  the  cynic  of  Fernay.  More ;  she 
is  familiar  with  Petrarch,  Le  Sage,  Corneille, 
Rousseau,  Chesterfield,  Cervantes.  Madam 
Prevost  and  young  Aaron  find  much  to  talk  of 
and  agree  about,  in  the  way  of  romance  and 
poetry  and  philosophy,  and  are  never  dull  for 

85 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

lack  of  topics.  And,  as  they  converse,  he  wor 
ships  her  with  his  eyes,  from  which  every  least 
black  trace  of  that  ophidian  sparkle  has  been 
extinguished. 

The  first  snowflakes  are  falling  when  young 
Aaron  receives  orders  to  join  Washington's 
army  at  Valley  Forge.  Arriving,  his  hatred  of 
the  big  general  is  rearoused.  He  suggests  an 
expedition  against  the  English  on  Staten  Island, 
and  offers  to  undertake  it  with  three  hundred 
men.  Washington  thinks  well  of  the  sugges 
tion,  but  dispatches  Lord  Stirling  to  carry  it  out. 
Young  Aaron,  hot  with  disappointment,  adds 
this  to  the  list  of  injuries  which  he  believes  he 
has  received  from  the  Virginian. 

Food  is  stinted,  fire  scarce  at  Valley  Forge; 
there  is  a  deal  of  cold  and  starving.  Folk  hun 
gry  and  frozen  are  in  no  humor  for  work,  and 
look  on  labor  as  an  evil.  Young  Aaron  takes 
no  account  of  this,  but  has  out  his  tattered, 
chilled,  thin-flanked  followers  to  those  daily 
drills. 

In  the  end  a  spirit  of  mutiny  creeps  in  among 
the  men.  It  finds  concrete  shape  one  frosty 
morning  when  private  John  Cook  levels  his 
musket  at  young  Aaron's  heart.  Private  Cook 
means  murder,  and  is  only  kept  from  it  by  the 
86 


M 


>  'I 


£     -- 

2    « 


5 
£ 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


CONQUERING     THEODOSIA 

promptitude  of  young  Aaron.  With  that  very 
motion  of  the  mutineer  which  aims  the  gun, 
young  Aaron's  sword  comes  rasping  from  its 
scabbard,  and  a  backhanded  stroke  all  but  severs 
the  would-be  homicide's  right  arm.  The 
wounded  man  falls  bleeding  to  the  ground. 
With  that,  young  Aaron  details  a  pale-faced, 
silent  quartette  to  carry  the  wounded  one  to  the 
hospital,  and,  drawing  his  blade  through  a 
handkerchief  to  wipe  away  the  blood,  proceeds 
with  the  hated  drill. 

While  young  Aaron  serves  at  Valley  Forge,  V- 
a  conspiracy,  whereof  General  Conway  is  the 
animating  heart  and  General  Gates  the  figure 
head,  is  hatched.  The  purpose  is  to  remove 
Washington,  and  set  the  conqueror  of  Burgoyne 
in  his  place.  Young  Aaron  joins  the  conspiracy, 
and  is  looked  upon  by  his  fellow  plotters  as  ar 
dent,  but  unimportant  because  of  his  youth. 

The  design  falls  to  the  ground;  Washington 
retains  his  command,  while  Gates  goes  south  to 
lose  his  Burgoyne  laurels  and  get  drubbed  by 
Cornwallis.  As  for  young  Aaron,  he  swallows 
as  best  he  may  his  disappointment  over  the  poor 
upcome  of  that  plot,  and  takes  part  in  the  battle 
of  Monmouth.  Here  he  has  his  horse  shot 
under  him,  and  lays  up  fresh  hatreds  against 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

Washington  for  refusing  to  let  him  charge  an 
English  battery. 

Sore,  heart-cankered  of  chagrin,  young  Aaron 
asks  for  leave  of  absence.  He  declares  that  he 
is  ill,  and  his  hollow  cheek  and  bilious  eye  sus 
tain  him.  He  says  that,  until  his  health  mends, 
he  will  take  no  pay. 

'  You  shall  have  leave  of  absence,"  says 
Washington,  to  whom  young  Aaron  prefers  his 
request  in  person,  "  but  you  must  draw  pay." 

"  And  why  draw  pay,  sir!  "  demands  young 
Aaron  warmly,  for  he  somehow  smells  an  in 
sult.  "  I  shall  render  no  service.  I  think  the 
proprieties  much  preserved  by  a  stoppage  of  my 
pay." 

"  If  you  were  the  only,  one,  sir,"  returns 
Washington,  "  I  might  say  as  you  do.  But 
there  be  others  on  sick  leave,  who  are  not  men 
of  fortune  like  yourself.  Those  gentlemen  must 
draw  their  pay,  or  see  their  people  suffer. 
Should  you  be  granted  leave  without  pay,  they 
might  feel  criticised.  You  note  the  point,  sir." 

"  Why,"  replies  young  Aaron,  with  a  tinge 
of  sarcasm,  "  the  point,  I  take  it,  is  that  you 
would  not  have  me  shine  at  the  expense  of  folk 
of  lesser  fortune  or  more  avarice  than  myself. 
Because  others  are  not  generous  to  their  coun- 
88 


CONQUERING     THEODOSIA 

try,  I  must  be  refused  the  poor  privilege  of 
contributing  even  my  absence  to  her  cause." 

At  young  Aaron's  palpable  sneer,  the  big  gen 
eral's  face  darkens  with  anger.  *  You  exhibit 
an  insolence,  sir,"  he  says  at  last,  "  which  I  suc 
ceed  in  overlooking  only  by  remembering  that  I 
am  twice  your  age.  I  understand,  of  course, 
that  you  intend  a  covert  thrust  at  myself,  be 
cause  I  draw  my  three  guineas  per  day  as  com 
mander  in  chief.  Rather  to  enlighten  you  than 
defend  my  own  conduct,  I  may  tell  you,  sir, 
that  I  draw  those  three  guineas  upon  the  pre 
cise  grounds  I  state  as  reasons  why  you,  dur 
ing  your  leave,  must  accept  pay.  There  are 
men  as  brave,  as  true,  as  patriotic  as  either  of 
us,  who  cannot — as  we  might — fight  months  on 
end,  without  some  provision  for  their  families. 
What,  sir " — here  the  big  general  begins  to 
kindle — "  is  it  not  enough  that  men  risk  their 
blood  for  these  colonies  ?  Must  wives  and  chil 
dren  starve?  The  cause  is  not  so  poor,  I  tell 
you,  but  what  it  can  pay  its  own  cost.  You  and 
I,  sir,  will  draw  our  pay,  to  keep  in  self-respect 
ing  countenance  folk  as  good  as  ourselves  in 
everything  save  fortune." 

Young  Aaron  shrugs  his  shoulders.  "  If  it 
were  not,  sir,"  he  begins,  "  for  that  difference  in 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

our  ages  which  you  so  opportunely  quote,  to  say 
nothing  of  my  inferior  military  rank,  I  might 
ask  if  your  determination  to  make  me  accept 
pay,  whether  I  earn  it  or  no,  be  not  due  to  a 
latent  dislike  for  myself  personally.  I  can  think 
of  much  that  justifies  the  question." 

"  Colonel  Burr,"  observes  the  big  general, 
with  a  dignity  which  is  not  without  rebuking 
effect  upon  young  Aaron,  "  because  you  are 
young  and  will  one  day  be  older,  I  am  inclined 
to  justify  myself  in  your  eyes.  I  make  it  a  rule 
to  seldom  take  advice  and  never  give  it.  And 
yet  there  is  room  for  a  partial  exception  in  your 
instance.  There  is  a  word,  two,  perhaps,  which 
I  think  you  need." 

"  Believe  me,  sir,  I  am  honored!  " 

"  My  counsel,  sir,  is  to  cease  thinking  of  your 
self.  Give  your  life  a  better  purpose  and  a 
higher  aim.  You  will  have  more  credit  now, 
more  fame  hereafter,  if  you  will  lay  aside  that 
egotism  which  dominates  you,  and  give  your 
career  a  motive  beyond  and  above  a  mere  desire 
to  advance  yourself." 

The    big    general,    from    the    commanding 

heights  of  those  advantageous  extra  six  inches, 

looks  down  upon  young  Aaron.    In  that  looking 

down  there  is  nothing  of  the  paternal.     Rather 

90 


CONQUERING     THEODOSIA 

it  is  as  though  a  pedagogue  deals  with  some 
self-willed  pupil. 

Of  all  the  big  general's  irritating  attitudes, 
young  Aaron  finds  this  pose  of  unruffled  suprem 
acy  the  one  hardest  to  bear.  He  holds  himself 
in  hand,  however,  deeming  it  a  time,  now  the 
ice  is  broken,  to  go  to  the  bottom  of  his  pros 
pects,  and  learn  what  hope  there  is  of  honors 
which  can  come  only  through  the  other's  word. 

"  Sir,"  observes  young  Aaron,  "  will  you  be 
so  good  as  to  make  yourself  clear.  What  you 
say  is  interesting;  I  would  not  miss  its  slightest 
meaning." 

"  It  should  be  confessed,"  returns  the  big  gen 
eral,  somewhat  to  one  side,  "  that  I  am  of  a  hot 
and  angry  temper.  My  one  fear,  having  au 
thority,  is  that  in  the  heat  of  personal  resent 
ments  I  may  do  injustice.  If  it  were  not  for 
such  fear,  you  would  have  gone  south  with 
General  Gates,  for  whom  you  plotted  all  you 
knew  to  bring  about  my  downfall." 

Young  Aaron  is  seized  of  a  chilling  surprise. 
This  is  his  first  news  that  Washington  is  aware 
of  his  part  in  that  plot.  However,  he  schools 
his  features  to  a  statuelike  immobility,  and 
evinces  neither  amazement  nor  dismay.  The 
big  general  goes  on  : 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

"  No,  sir;  your  conduct  as  a  soldier  has  been 
good.  So  I  leave  you  with  your  regiment,  retain 
you  with  me,  because  I  can  see  no  public  reasons, 
but  only  private  ones,  for  sending  you  away.  I 
go  over  these  things,  sir,  to  convince  you  that  I 
have  not  permitted  personal  bias  to  control  my 
attitude  toward  you.  Besides,  I  hope  to  teach 
you  a  present  sincerity  in  what  I  say." 

'  Why,  sir/'  interjects  young  Aaron,  careful 
to  maintain  a  coolness  and  self-possession  equal 
with  the  big  general's;  "  you  give  yourself  un 
necessary  trouble.  I  cannot  think  your  sincerity 
important,  since  I  shall  not  permit  the  question 
of  it  to  in  any  way  add  to  or  subtract  from  your 
words.  I  listen  gladly  and  with  gratitude. 
None  the  less,  I  shall  accept  or  reject  your  coun 
sel  on  its  abstract  merits,  unaffected  by  its  honor 
able  source." 

The  insufferable  impertinence  of  young 
Aaron's  manner  would  have  got  him  drummed 
out  of  some  services,  shot  in  others.  The  big 
general  only  bites  his  lip. 

"  What  I  would  tell  you,"  he  resumes,  "  is 
this.  You  possess  the  raw  material  of  greatness 
— but  with  one  element  lacking.  You  may  rise 
to  what  heights  you  choose,  if  you  will  but  cure 
yourself  of  one  defect.  Observe,  sir !  Men  are 
92 


6  -s 

53 

W        <X, 


W        o 

H    -^ 


CONQUERING     THEODOSIA 

judged,  not  for  deeds  but  motives.  A  man  in 
jures  you ;  you  excuse  him  because  no  injury  was 
meant.  A  man  seeks  to  injure  you,  but  fails; 
and  yet  you  resent  it,  in  spite  of  that  defensive 
failure,  because  of  the  intent.  So  it  is  with  hu 
manity  at  large.  It  looks  at  the  motive  rather 
than  the  act.  Sir,  I  have  watched  you.  You 
have  no  motive  but  yourself.  Patriotism  plays 
no  part  when  you  come  to  this  war;  it  is  not  the 
country,  but  Aaron  Burr,  you  carry  on  your 
thoughts.  Whatever  you  may  believe,  you  can 
not  win  fame  or  good  repute  on  terms  so  nar 
row.  A  man  is  so  much  like  a  gun  that,  to 
carry  far,  he  must  have  some  elevation  of  aim. 
You  were  born  fortunate  in  your  parts,  save  for 
that  defective  element  of  aim.  There,  sir,  you 
fail,  and  will  continue  to  fail,  unless  you  work 
your  own  redemption.  It  is  as  though  you  had 
been  born  on  a  dead  level — aimed  point-blank 
at  birth.  You  should  have  been  born  at  an  angle 
of  forty-five  degrees.  With  half  the  powder, 
sir,  you  would  carry  twice  as  far.  Wherefore, 
elevate  yourself;  give  your  life  a  noble  purpose! 
Make  yourself  the  incident,  mankind  the  object. 
Merge  egotism  in  patriotism;  forget  self  in 
favor  of  your  country  and  its  flag." 

The  gray  eyes  of  the  big  general  rest  upon 

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AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

young  Aaron  with  concern.  Then  he  abruptly 
retreats  into  the  soldier,  as  though  ashamed  of 
his  own  earnestness.  Without  giving  time  for 
reply  to  that  dissertation  on  the  proper  aim  of 
man,  he  again  takes  up  the  original  business  of 
the  leave. 

"  Colonel  Burr,"  says  he,  "  you  shall  have 
leave  of  absence.  But  your  waiver  of  pay  is  de 
clined." 

"  Then,  sir,"  retorts  young  Aaron,  "  you 
must  permit  me  to  withdraw  my  application. 
I  shall  not  take  the  country's  money,  without 
rendering  service  for  it." 

;<  That  is  as  you  please,  sir." 

"  One  thing  stands  plain,"  mutters  young 
Aaron,  as  he  walks  away;  "the  sooner  I  quit 
the  army  the  better.  For  me  it  is  *  no  thorough 
fare/  and  I  may  as  well  save  my  time.  He 
knows  of  my  part  in  that  Conway-Gates  move 
ment,  too;  and,  for  all  his  platitudes  about 
justice  and  high  aims,  he's  no  one  to  forget  it." 


CHAPTER    VIII 

MARRIAGE   AND   THE    LAW 

YOUNG  Aaron,  with  his  regiment,  is  or 
dered  to  West  Point.  Next  he  is  dis 
patched  to  hold  the  Westchester  lines, 
being  that  debatable  ground  lying  between  the 
Americans  at  White  Plains  and  the  English 
at  Kingsbridge.  It  is  still  his  half-formed  pur 
pose  to  resign  his  sword,  and  turn  the  back 
of  his  ambition  on  every  hope  of  military 
glory.  He  says  as  much  to  General  Putnam, 
whose  real  liking  for  him  he  feels  and  trusts. 
The  wise  old  wolf  killer  argues  in  favor  of 
patience. 

"  Washington  is  but  trying  you,"  he  de 
clares.  "  It  will  all  come  right,  if  you  but  hold 
on.  And  to  be  a  colonel  at  twenty-two  is  no 
small  thing,  let  me  tell  you !  Suck  comfort  from 
that!" 

Young  Aaron  knows  the  old  wolf  killer  so 
well  that  he  feels  he  may  go  as  far  as  he  chooses 

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AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

into  those  twin  subjects  of  Washington  and  his 
own  military  prospects. 

"  General,"  he  says,  "  believe  me  when  I  tell 
you  that  I  accept  what  you  say  as  though  from  a 
father.  Let  me  talk  to  you,  then,  not  as  a 
colonel  to  his  general,  but  as  son  to  sire.  I  have 
my  own  views  concerning  Washington ;  they  are 
not  of  the  highest.  I  do  not  greatly  esteem  him 
as  either  a  soldier  or  a  man." 

"And  there  you  are  wrong!  "  breaks  in  the 
old  wolf  killer;  "twice  wrong." 

"  Give  me  your  own  views,  then;  I  shall  be 
glad  to  change  the  ones  I  have." 

"You  speak  of  Washington  as  no  soldier. 
Without  reminding  you  that  you  yourself  own 
but  little  experience  to  guide  by  in  coming  to 
such  conclusion,  I  may  say  perhaps  that  I,  who 
have  fought  in  both  the  French  War  and  the 
war  with  Pontiac,  possess  some  groundwork 
upon  which  to  base  opinion.  Take  my  word 
for  it,  then,  that  there  is  no  better  soldier  any 
where  than  Washington." 

"  But  he  is  all  for  retreating,  and  never  for 
advancing." 

"  Precisely !  And,  whether  you  know  it  or 
no,  those  tactics  of  falling  back  and  falling  back 
are  the  ones,  the  only  ones,  which  promise  final 


MARRIAGE    AND    THE    LAW 

success.    Where,  let  me  ask,  do  you  think  this 
war  is  to  be  won?  " 

"  Where  should  any  war  be  won  but  on  the 
battlefield?" 

The  old  wolf  killer  smiles  a  wide  smile  of 
grizzled  toleration.  Plainly,  he  regards  young 
Aaron  as  lacking  in  years  quite  as  much  as  does 
Washington  himself;  and  yet,  somehow,  this 
manner  on  his  part  does  not  fret  the  boy  colonel. 
In  truth,  he  meets  the  fatherly  grin  with  the 
ghost  of  a  smile. 

'Where,  then,  should  this  war  be  won?" 
asks  young  Aaron. 

"  Not  on  the  battlefield.  I  am  but  a  plain 
farmer  when  I'm  not  wearing  a  sword,  and  no 
statesman  like  Adams  or  Franklin  or  Jefferson. 
For  all  that,  I  am  wise  enough  to  know  that  the 
war  must,  and,  in  the  end,  will  be  won  in  the 
Parliament  of  England.  It  must  be  won  for  us 
by  Fox  and  Burke  and  Pitt  and  the  other  Whigs. 
All  we  can  do  is  furnish  them  the  occasion  and 
the  argument,  and  that  can  be  accomplished 
only  by  retreating." 

Young  Aaron  sniffs  his  polite  distrust  of  such 
topsy-turvy  logic.     "  Now  I  should  call,"  says 
he,  "  these  retreats,  by  which  you  and  Wash 
ington  seem  to  set  so  much  store,  a  worst  pos- 
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AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

sible  method  of  giving  encouragement  to  our 
friends.  I  fear  you  jest  with  me,  general.  How 
can  you  say  that  by  retreating,  itself  a  confession 
of  weakness,  we  give  the  English  Whigs  an  ar 
gument  which  shall  induce  King  George  to  rec 
ognize  our  independence?  " 

"If  you  were  ten  years  older,"  remarks  the 
old  wolf  killer,  "  you  would  not  put  the  ques 
tion.  Which  proves  some  of  us  in  error  con 
cerning  you,  and  shows  you  as  young  as  your 
age  should  warrant.  Let  me  explain :  You  think 
a  war,  sir,  this  war,  for  instance,  is  a  matter 
of  soldiers  and  guns.  It  isn't;  it  is  a  matter  of 
gold.  As  affairs  stand,  the  English  are  shed 
ding  their  guineas  much  faster  than  they  shed 
their  blood.  Presently  the  taxpayers  of  Eng 
land  will  begin  to  feel  it;  they  feel  it  now.  Let 
the  drain  go  on.  Before  all  is  done,  their  resolu 
tion  will  break  down;  they  will  elect  a  Parlia-, 
ment  instructed  to  concede  our  independence.' ' 

"  Your  idea,  then,  is  to  prolong  the  war,  and 
per  incident  the  expense  of  it  to  the  English, 
until,  under  a  weight  of  taxation,  the  courage  of 
the  English  taxpayer  breaks  down." 

"YouVe  nicked  it.  We  own  neither  the 
force,  nor  the  guns,  nor  the  powder,  nor — and 
this  last  in  particular — the  bayonets  to  wage 


MARRIAGE    AND    THE    LAW 

aggressive  warfare.  To  do  so  would  be  to  play 
the  English  game.  They  would,  breast  to  breast 
and  hand  to  hand,  wipe  us  out  by  sheerest  force 
of  numbers.  That  would  mean  the  finish;  we 
should  lose  and  they  would  win.  Our  plan — 
the  Washington  plan — is,  with  as  little  loss  as 
possible  in  men  and  dollars  to  ourselves,  to  pile 
up  cost  for  the  foe.  There  is  but  one  way  to  do 
that;  we  must  fall  back,  and  keep  falling  back, 
to  the  close  of  the  chapter." 

"  At  least,"  says  young  Aaron,  with  a  sour 
grimace,  "  you  will  admit  that  the  plan  of  cam 
paign  you  offer  presents  no  peculiar  features  of 
attractive  gallantry." 

"  Gallantry  is  not  the  point.  I  am  but  try 
ing  to  convince  you  that  Washington,  in  this 
backwardness  of  which  you  complain,  proceeds 
neither  from  ignorance  nor  cowardice;  but 
Father  from  a  set  and  well-considered  strategy. 
I  might  add,  too,  that  it  takes  a  better  soldier 
to  retreat  than  to  advance.  As  for  your  true 
soldier,  after  he  passes  forty,  he  talks  not  of 
winning  battles  but  wars.  After  forty  he 
thinks  little  or  nothing  of  that  engaging  gal 
lantry  of  which  you  talk,  and  never  throws  away 
practical  advantage  in  favor  of  some  gilded  sen 
timent.  You  deem  slightly  of  Washington,  be- 
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AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

cause  you  know  slightly  of  Washington.  The 
most  I  may  say  to  comfort  you  is  that  Wash 
ington  most  thoroughly  knows  himself.  And  " 
— here  the  old  wolf  killer's  voice  begins  to 
tremble  a  little — "I'll  go  further:  I've  seen 
many  men;  but  none  of  a  courage,  a  patriotism, 
a  fortitude,  a  sense  of  honor  to  match  with  his; 
none  of  his  exalted  ideals  or  noble  genius  for 
justice." 

Young  Aaron  is  silent ;  for  he  sees  how  moved 
is  the  old  wolf  killer,  and  would  not  for  the 
ransom  of  a  world  say  aught  to  pain  him.  After 
a  pause  he  observes : 

"  Assuredly,  I  could  not  think  of  going  be 
hind  your  opinions,  and  Washington  shall  be  all 
you  say.  None  the  less — and  here  I  believe 
you  will  bear  me  out — he  has  of  me  no  good 
opinion.  He  will  not  advance  me;  he  will  not 
give  me  opportunity  to  advance.  And,  after 
all,  the  question  I  originally  put  only  touched 
myself.  I  told  you  I  thought,  and  now  tell  you 
I  still  think,  that  I  might  better  take  off  my 
sword,  forget  war,  and  see  what  is  to  be  won  in 
the  law." 

"  And  you  ask  my  advice?  " 

"  Your  honest  advice." 

"  Then  stick  to  the  head  of  your  regiment. 
100 


MARRIAGE    AND    THE    LAW 

Convince  Washington  that  his  opinion  of  you 
is  unjust,  and  he'll  be  soonest  to  admit  it.  To 
convince  him  should  not  be  difficult,  since  you 
have  but  to  do  your  duty." 

"  Very  good,"  observes  Aaron,  resignedly, 
"  I  shall,  for  the  present  at  least,  act  upon  your 
counsel.  Also,  much  as  I  value  your  advice, 
general,  you  have  given  me  something  else  in 
this  conversation  which  I  value  more;  that  is, 
your  expressed  and  friendly  confidence." 

Following  his  long  talk  with  the  old  wolf 
killer,  young  Aaron  throws  himself  upon  his 
duty,  heart  and  hand.  In  his  role  as  warden  of 
the  Westchester  marches,  he  is  as  vigilant  as  a 
lynx.  The  English  under  Tryon  move  north 
from  New  York;  he  sends  them  scurrying  back 
to  town  in  hot  and  fear-spurred  haste.  They  at 
tempt  to  surprise  him,  and  are  themselves  sur 
prised.  They  build  a  doughty  blockhouse  near 
Spuyten  Duyvel;  young  Aaron  burns  it,  and 
brings  in  its  defenders  as  captives.  Likewise, 
under  cloud  of  night — night,  ever  the  ally  of 
lovers — he  oft  plays  Leander  to  Madam  Pre- 
vost's  Hero ;  only  the  Hudson  is  his  Hellespont, 
and  he  does  not  swim  but  crosses  in  a  barge. 
These  love  pilgrimages  mean  forty  miles  and  as 
many  perils.  However,  the  heart-blinded  young 
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AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

Aaron  is  not  counting  miles  or  perils,  as  he  pic 
tures  his  gray  goddess  of  Paramus  sighing  for 
his  coming. 

One  day  young  Aaron  hears  tidings  that  mean 
much  in  his  destinies.  The  good  old  wolf  killer, 
his  sole  friend  in  the  army,  is  stricken  of  para 
lysis,  and  goes  home  to  die.  The  news  is  a  shock 
to  him;  the  more  since  it  offers  the  final  argu 
ment  for  ending  with  the  military.  He  consults 
no  one.  •  Basing  his  action  on  a  want  of  health, 
he  forwards  his  resignation  to  Washington,  who 
accepts.  He  leaves  the  army,  taking  with  him 
an  unfaltering  dislike  of  the  big  general  which 
will  wax  not  wane  as  years  wear  on. 

Young  Aaron  is  much  and  lovingly  about  his 
goddess  of  the  wan  gray  eyes;  so  much  and  so 
lovingly,  indeed,  that  it  excites  the  gossips. 
With  war  and  battle  and  sudden  death  on  every 
hand  and  all  about  them,  scandal-mongering 
ones  may  still  find  time  and  taste  for  the  dis 
cussion  of  the  faded  Madam  Prevost  and  her 
boy  lover.  The  discussion,  however,  is  carried 
on  in  whispers,  and  made  to  depend  on  a  move 
ment  of  the  shoulder  or  an  eyebrow  knowingly 
lifted.  Madam  Prevost  and  young  Aaron 
neither  hear  nor  see;  their  eyes  and  ears  are 
sweetly  busy  over  nearer,  dearer  things. 

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MARRIAGE    AND    THE    LAW 

It  is  deep  evening  at  the  Prevost  mansion.  A 
carnage  stops  at  the  gate;  the  next  moment  a 
bold-eyed  woman,  the  boldness  somewhat  in 
eclipse  through  weariness  and  fear,  bursts  in. 
Young  Aaron's  memory  is  for  a  moment  held 
at  bay;  then  he  recalls  her.  The  bold-eyed 
one  is  none  other  than  that  Madam  Arnold 
whom  he  saw  on  a  Newburyport  occasion,  when 
he  was  dreaming  of  conquest  and  Quebec. 
Plainly,  the  bold-eyed  one  knows  Madam 
Prevost;  for  she  runs  to  her  with  outstretched 
hands. 

"  Oh,  I've  lied  and  played  the  hypocrite  all 
day!" 

Then  the  bold-eyed  one  relates  the  just  dis 
covered  treason  of  her  husband,  and  how  she 
imitated  tears  and  hysteria  and  the  ravings  of 
one  abandoned,  to  cover  herself  from  the  con 
sequences  of  a  crime  to  which  she  was  privy,  and 
the  commission  whereof  she  urged. 

"  This  gentleman!  "  cries  the  bold-eyed  one, 
as  she  closes  her  story— she  has  become  aware  of 
young  Aaron — "  this  gentleman !  May  I  trust 
him?" 

"  As  you  would  myself,"  returns  Madam 
Prevost. 

And  so,  by  the  lips  he  loves,  young  Aaron  is 
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AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

bound  to  permit,  if  he  does  not  aid,  the  escape 
of  the  bold-eyed  traitress.  Wherefore,  she 
goes  her  uninterrupted  way;  after  which  he  for 
gets  her,  and  again  takes  up  the  subject  nearest 
his  heart,  his  love  for  Madam  Prevost. 

Eighteen  months  slip  by;  young  Aaron  is 
eager  for  marriage.  Madam  Prevost  is  not  so 
hurried,  but  urges  a  prudent  procrastination. 
He  is  about  to  return  to  those  law  studies,  which 
he  took  up  aforetime  with  Tappan  Reeve.  She 
shows  him  that  it  would  more  consist  with  his 
dignity,  were  he  able  to  write  himself  "  lawyer  " 
before  he  became  a  married  man. 

Lovers  will  listen  to  sweethearts  when  hus 
bands  turn  blandly  deaf  to  wives,  and  young 
Aaron  accepts  the  advice  of  his  goddess  of  faded 
years  and  experiences.  He  hunts  up  a  certain 
Judge  Patterson,  a  law-light  of  New  Jersey — 
not  too  far  from  Paramus — and  enters  himself 
as  a  student  under  that  philosopher  of  juris 
prudence. 

Judge  Patterson  and  young  Aaron  do  not 
agree.  The  one  is  methodical,  and  looks  slowly 
out  upon  the  world ;  he  holds  by  the  respectable 
theory  that  one  should  know  the  law  before  he 
practices  it.  The  other  favors  haste  at  any  cost, 
and  argues  that  by  practice  one  will  most  surely 
104 


MRS.  BENEDICT  ARNOLD  AND  CHILD 

From  a  painting  by  Sir  Thomas  Laurence. 


MARRIAGE    AND    THE    LAW 

and  sharply  come  to  a  profound  knowledge  of 
the  law. 

Perceiving  his  studies  to  go  forward  as 
though  shod  with  lead,  young  Aaron  remon 
strates  with  his  preceptor. 

"  This  will  never  do,"  he  cries.  "  Sir,  I  shall 
be  gray  before  I  go  to  the  bar!  "  He  explains 
that  it  is  his  purpose  to  enter  upon  the  practice 
of  the  law  within  a  year.  "  Twelve  months  as  a 
student  should  be  enough,"  he  says. 

"  Sir,"  observes  the  scandalized  Judge  Patter 
son  in  retort,  "  to  talk  of  taking  charge  of  a 
client's  interests  after  studying  but  a  year  is  to 
talk  of  fraud.  You  would  but  sacrifice  them  to 
your  own  vain  ignorance,  sir.  It  would  be  a 
most  flagrant  case  of  the  blind  leading  the 
blind." 

"  Possibly  now,"  urges  young  Aaron  the  cyn 
ical,  "  the  opposing  counsel  might  be  as  blind  as 
I,  and  the  bench  as  blind  as  either." 

"  Such  talk  is  profanation!  "  exclaims  Judge 
Patterson  who,  making  a  cult  of  the  law,  feels  a 
priestly  horror  at  young  Aaron's  ribaldry.  "  Let 
me  be  plain,  sir!  No  student  shall  leave  me  to 
engage  upon  the  practice,  unless  I  think  him 
competent.  As  to  that  condition  of  competency, 
I  deem  you  many  months'  journey  from  it." 
105 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

Finding  himself  and  Judge  Patterson  so  much 
at  variance,  young  Aaron  bids  that  severe  jurist 
adieu,  and  betakes  himself  to  Haverstraw. 
There  he  makes  a  more  agreeable  compact  with 
one  Judge  Smith,  whom  the  English  have 
driven  from  New  York.  While  he  waits  for  the 
day  when — English  vanished — he  may  return 
to  his  practice,  Judge  Smith  accepts  a  round  sum 
in  gold  from  young  Aaron,  on  the  understand 
ing  that  he  devote  himself  wholly  to  that  im 
patient  gentleman's  education. 

Judge  Smith  of  Haverstraw  does  his  honest 
best  to  earn  that  gold.  Morning,  noon,  and 
night,  and  late  into  the  latter,  he  and  young 
Aaron  go  hammering  at  the  old  musty  masters 
of  jurisprudence.  The  student  makes  astonish 
ing  advances,  and  it  is  no  more  than  a  matter  of 
weeks  when  Jack  proves  as  good  as  his  master. 
Still,  the  sentiment  which  animates  young 
Aaron's  efforts  is  never  high.  He  studies  law 
as  some  folk  study  fencing,  his  one  absorbing 
thought  being  to  learn  how  to  defeat  an  ad 
versary  and  save  himself.  His  great  concern  is 
to  make  himself  past  master  of  every  thrust, 
parry,  and  sleighty  trick  of  fence,  whether  in 
attack  or  guard,  with  the  one  object  of  victory 
for  himself  and  the  enemy's  destruction.  Jus- 
106 


MARRIAGE    AND    THE    LAW 

tice,  and  to  assist  thereat,  is  the  thing  distant 
from  his  thoughts. 

At  the  end  of  six  months,  Judge  Smith  de 
clares  young  Aaron  able  to  hold  his  own  with 
any  adversary. 

"  Mark  my  words,  sir,"  he  observes,  when 
speaking  of  young  Aaron  to  a  fellow  gray 
member  of  the  guild — "  mark  my  words,  sir, 
he  will  prove  one  of  the  most  dangerous  men 
who  ever  sat  down  to  a  trial  table.  There  is, 
of  course,  a  right  side  and  a  wrong  side  to  every 
cause.  In  that  luck  which  waits  upon  the  prac 
tice  of  the  law,  he  may,  as  might  you  or 
I,  be  retained  for  the  wrong  side  of  a  liti 
gation.  But  whether  right  or  wrong,  should 
you  some  day  be  pitted  against  him,  you  will 
find  him  possessed  of  this  sinister  peculiarity.  If 
he's  right,  you  won't  defeat  him;  if  he's  wrong, 
you  must  exercise  your  utmost  care  or  he'll  de 
feat  you." 

Pronouncing  which,  Judge  Smith  refreshes 
himself  with  sardonic  snuff,  after  the  manner  of 
satirical  ones  who  feel  themselves  delivered  of 
a  smartish  quip. 

Following  that  profound  novitiate  of  six 
months,  young  Aaron  visits  Albany  and  seeks 
admission  to  the  bar.  He  should  have  studied 
107 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

three  years;  but  the  benignant  judge  forgives 
him  those  other  two  years  and  more,  basing  his 
generosity  on  the  applicant's  services  as  a 
soldier. 

"  And  so,"  says  young  Aaron,  "  I  at  least 
get  something  from  my  soldier  life.  It  wasn't 
all  thrown  away,  since  now  it  saves  me  a  deal  of 
grinding  study  at  the  books." 

Young  Aaron  settles  down  to  practice  law  in 
Albany.  He  prefers  New  York  City,  and  will 
go  there  when  the  English  leave.  Pending  that 
redcoat  exodus,  he  cheers  his  spirit  and  im 
proves  his  time  by  carrying  Madam  Prevost  to 
church,  where  the  Reverend  Bogard  declares 
them  man  and  wife,  after  the  methods  and  man 
ners  of  the  Dutch  Reformed. 

The  boy  husband  and  the  faded  middle-aged 
wife  remain  a  year  in  Albany.  There  a  daugh 
ter  is  born.  She  will  grow  up  as  the  beautiful 
Theodosia,  and,  when  the  maternal  Theodosia 
is  no  more,  be  all  in  all  to  her  father.  Young 
Aaron  kisses  baby  Theodosia,  calls  the  stars  his 
brothers,  and  walks  the  sky.  For  once,  in  a 
way,  that  old  innate  egotism  is  well-nigh  dead 
in  his  heart. 

About  this  time  the  beaten  English  sail 
away  for  home,  and  young  Aaron  gives  up  Al- 
108 


MARRIAGE    AND    THE    LAW 

bany.  Albany  has  three  thousand;  New  York 
is  a  pulsating  metropolis  of  twenty-two  thousand 
souls.  There  can  be  no  question  as  to  where  the 
choice  of  a  rising  young  barrister  should  fall. 
He  goes  therefore  to  New  York;  and,  with  the 
two  Theodosias  and  the  two  little  Prevost  boys, 
takes  a  stately  mansion  in  that  thoroughfare  of 
fashion  and  fine  society,  Maiden  Lane.  He 
opens  law  offices  by  the  Bowling  Green,  to  a 
gathering  cloud  of  clients. 

The  Right  Reverend  Doctor  Bellamy  of 
Bethlehem  pays  him  a  visit. 

i(  With  your  few  months  of  study,"  observes 
the  reverend  doctor  dryly,  "  I  wonder  you  know 
enough  of  law  to  so  much  as  keep  it,  let  alone 
going  about  its  practice." 

"  Law  is  not  so  difficult,"  responds  young 
Aaron,  quite  as  dry  as  the  good  doctor.  "  In 
deed,  in  some  respects  it  is  vastly  like  theology. 
That  is  to  say,  it  is  anything  which  is  boldly 
asserted  and  plausibly  maintained." 

The  good  doctor  says  he  will  answer  for 
young  Aaron's  boldness  of  assertion. 

"  And  yet,"  continues  the  good  doctor,  with 

just  a  glimmer  of  sarcasm,  "  the  last  time  I  saw 

you,  you  gave  me  the  catalogue  of  your  virtues, 

and   declared   them  the   virtues   of   a    soldier. 

109 


OF  THE 
UNIVERSITY 

OF 
s£*t.l 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

How  comes  it,  then,  that  in  the  midst  of  battles 
you  laid  down  steel  for  parchment,  gave  up 
arms  for  law?  " 

'*  Washington  drove  me  from  the  army,"  re 
sponds  young  Aaron,  with  convincing  gravity. 
"  As  I  told  you,  sir,  by  nature  I  am  a  soldier,  and 
turned  lawyer  only  through  necessity.  And 
Washington  was  the  necessity." 


CHAPTER    IX 

SON-IN-LAW    HAMILTON 

NOW  when  young  Aaron,  in  the  throb 
bing  metropolis  of  New  York,  finds 
himself  a  lawyer  and  a  married  man, 
with  an  office  by  the  Bowling  Green  and  a  house 
in  fashionable  Maiden  Lane,  he  gives  himself 
up  to  a  cool  survey  of  his  surroundings.  What 
he  sees  is  fairly  and  honestly  set  forth  by  the 
good  Dr.  Bellamy,  after  that  dominie  returns 
to  Bethlehem  and  Madam  Bellamy.  The  lat 
ter,  like  all  true  women,  is  curious,  and  gives 
the  doctor  no  peace  until  he  relates  his  experi 
ences. 

"  The  city,"  observes  the  veracious  doctor, 
looking  up  from  tea  and  muffins,  "  is  large; 
some  say  as  large  as  twenty-seven  thousand.  I 
walked  to  every  part  of  it,  seeing  all  a  stranger 
should.  There  is  much  opulence  there.  The 
rich,  of  whom  there  are  many,  have  not  only 
town  houses,  but  cool  country  seats  north  of  the 
in 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

town.  Their  Broad  Way  is  a  fine,  noble  street ! 
— very  wide ! — fairer  than  any  in  Boston !  " 

"Doctor!"  expostulates  Madam  Bellamy, 
who  is  from  Massachusetts. 

"  Mother,  it  is  fact!  They  have,  too,  a  new 
church,  which  cost  twenty  thousand  pounds.  At 
their  shipyard  I  saw  an  East  Indiaman  of  eight 
hundred  tons — an  immense  vessel !  The  houses 
are  grand,  being  for  the  better  part  painted — 
even  the  brick  houses." 

"What!     Paint  a  brick  house !" 

"It  is  their  ostentation,  mother;  their  sense 
less  parade  of  wealth.  One  sees  the  latter  every 
where.  I  was  to  breakfast  at  General  Schuy- 
ler's;  it  was  an  elaborate  affair.  They  assured 
me  their  best  people  were  present;  Coster,  Liv 
ingston,  Bleecker,  Beekman,  Jay  were  some  of 
the  names.  A  more  elegant  repast  I  never  ate 
— all  set  as  it  was  with  a  profusion  of  massive 
plate.  There  were  a  silver  teapot  and  a  silver 
coffeepot " 

"Solid  silver?" 

"Ay!  The  king's  hall-mark  was  on  them; 
I  looked.  And  finest  linen,  too — white  as  snow ! 
Also  cups  of  gilt;  and  after  the  toast,  plates  of 
peaches  and  a  musk  melon !  It  was  more  a  feast 
than  a  breakfast." 

112 


SON-IN-LAW    HAMILTON 

"  Why,  it  is  a  tale  of  profligacy!  " 

"  Their  manners,  however,  do  not  keep  pace 
with  their  splendid  houses  and  furnishings. 
There  is  no  good  breeding;  they  have  no  con 
versation,  no  modesty.  They  talk  loud,  fast, 
and  all  together.  It  is  a  mere  theater  of  din 
and  witless  babble.  They  ask  a  question;  and 
then,  before  you  can  answer,  break  in  with  a 
stream  of  inane  chatter.  To  be  short,  I  met 
but  one  real  gentleman " 

"  Aaron !  " 

"Ay,  mother;  Aaron.  I  can  say  nothing 
good  of  his  religious  side ;  since,  for  all  he  is  the 
grandson  of  the  sainted  Jonathan  Edwards,  he 
is  no  better  than  the  heathen  that  rageth.  But 
his  manners!  What  a  polished  contrast  with 
the  boorishness  about  him!  Against  that  vul 
gar  background  he  shines  out  like  the  sun  at 
noon !  " 

Young  Aaron,  beginning  to  remember  his 
twenty-seven  years,  objects  to  the  descriptive 
"  young."  He  has  ever  scorned  it,  as  though  it 
were  some  epithet  of  infamy.  Now  he  takes 
open  stand  against  it. 

"  I  am  not  so  young,"  says  he,  to  one  who 
mentions  him  as  in  the  morning  of  his  years — 
"  I  am  not  so  young  but  what  I  have  com- 
9  113 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

manded  a  brigade,  sir,  on  a  field  of  stricken  bat 
tle.  My  rank  was  that  of  colonel!  You  will 
oblige  me  by  remembering  the  title." 

In  view  of  the  gentleman's  tartness,  it  will  be 
as  well  perhaps  to  hereafter  drop  the  "  young  " ; 
for  no  one  likes  to  give  offense.  Besides,  our 
tart  gentleman  is  married,  and  a  father.  Still, 
"  colonel "  is  but  a  word  of  pewter  when  no 
war  is  on.  "Aaron"  should  do  better;  and 
escape  challenge,  too,  that  irritating  "  young  " 
being  dropped. 

As  Aaron  runs  his  glance  along  the  front  of 
the  town's  affairs,  he  notes  that  in  commerce, 
fashion,  politics,  and  one  might  almost  say  re 
ligion,  the  situation  is  dominated  of  a  quartette 
of  septs.  There  are  the  Livingstons — numer 
ous,  rich.  There  are  the  Clintons,  of  whom 
Governor  Clinton  is  chief.  There  are  the  Jays, 
led  by  the  Honorable  John  of  that  ilk.  Most 
and  greatest,  there  are  the  Schuylers,  in  the  van 
of  which  tribe  towers  the  sour,  self-seeking,  self- 
sufficient  General  Schuyler.  Aaron,  in  the  gos 
sip  of  the  coffee  houses,  hears  much  of  General 
Schuyler.  He  hears  more  of  that  austere  per 
son's  son-in-law,  the  brilliant  Alexander  Ham 
ilton. 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  make  his  acquaintance," 
114 


SON-IN-LAW    HAMILTON 

thinks  Aaron,  when  he  is  told  of  the  latter.  "  I 
met  him  after  the  battle  of  Long  Island,  when 
in  his  pale  eagerness  to  escape  the  English  he 
had  left  baggage  and  guns  behind.  Yes ;  I  shall 
indeed  be  glad  to  see  him.  That  such  as  he  can 
come  to  eminence  in  the  town  possesses  its  en 
couraging  side." 

There  is  a  sneer  on  Aaron's  face  as  these 
thoughts  run  in  his  mind;  those  praises  of  son- 
in-law  Hamilton  have  vaguely  angered  his  self- 
love. 

Aaron's  opportunity  to  meet  and  make  the 
young  ex-artilleryman's  acquaintance,  is  not  long 
in  coming.  The  Tories,  whom  the  war  stripped 
of  their  property  and  civil  rights,  are  praying 
for  relief.  A  conference  of  the  town's  notables 
has  been  called ;  the  local  great  ones  are  to  come 
together  in  the  long-room  of  the  Fraunces 
Tavern.  Being  together,  they  will  consider 
how  far  a  decent  Americanism  may  unbend  to 
ward  Tory  relief. 

Aaron  arrives  early;  for  the  Fraunces  long- 
room  is  his  favorite  lounge.  The  big  apart 
ment  has  witnessed  no  changes  since  a  day  when 
poor  Peggy  Moncrieffe,  as  the  modern  Ariadne, 
wept  on  her  near-by  Naxos  of  Staten  Island, 
while  a  forgetful  Theseus,  in  that  same  long- 
US 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

room,  tasted  his  wine  unmoved.  Aaron  is  at 
a  corner  table  with  Colonel  Troup,  when  son- 
in-law  Hamilton  arrives. 

"  That  is  he,"  says  Colonel  Troup,  for  they 
have  been  talking  of  the  gentleman. 

Already  nosing  a  rival,  Aaron  regards  the 
newcomer  with  a  curious  black  narrowness 
which  has  little  of  liking  in  it.  Son-in-law  Ham 
ilton  is  a  short,  slim,  dapper  figure  of  a  man, 
as  short  and  slim  as  is  Aaron  himself.  His 
hair  is  clubbed  into  an  elaborate  cue,  and  pro 
fusely  powdered.  He  wears  a  blue  coat  with 
bright  buttons,  a  white  vest,  a  forest  of  ruffles, 
black  velvet  smalls,  white  silk  stockings,  and  con 
ventional  buckled  shoes. 

It  is  not  his  clothes,  but  his  countenance  to 
which  Aaron  addresses  his  most  searching 
glances.  The  forehead  is  good  and  full,  and 
rife  of  suggestion.  The  eyes  are  quick,  bright, 
selfish,  unreliable,  prone  to  look  one  way  while 
the  plausible  tongue  talks  another.  As  for  the 
face  generally :  fresh,  full,  sensual,  brisk,  it  is  the 
face  of  a  flatterer  and  a  politician,  the  face  of 
one  who  will  seek  his  ends  by  nearest  methods, 
and  never  mind  if  they  be  muddy.  Also,  there 
is  much  that  is  lurking  and  secret  about  the  ex 
pression,  which  recalls  the  slanderer  and  back- 
116 


SON-IN-LAW    HAMILTON 

biter,  who  will  be  ever  ready  to  serve  himself 
by  lies  whispered  in  the  dark. 

Son-in-law  Hamilton  does  not  see  Aaron  and 
Colonel  Troup,  and  goes  straight  to  a  group  the 
long  length  of  the  room  away.  Taking  a  seat, 
he  at  once  leads  the  conversation  of  the  circle 
he  has  joined,  speaking  in  a  loud,  confident  tone, 
with  the  manner  of  one  who  regards  his  own 
position  as  impregnable,  and  his  word  decisive 
of  whatever  question  is  discussed.  The  pom 
pous,  self-consequence  of  son-in-law  Hamilton 
arouses  the  dander  of  Aaron.  Nor  is  the  latter's 
wrath  the  less,  when  he  discovers  that  General 
Schuyler's  self-satisfied  young  relative  thinks 
the  suppliant  Tories  should  be  listened  to,  as 
folk  overharshly  dealt  with. 

As  Aaron  considers  son-in-law  Hamilton, 
and  decides  unfavorably  concerning  that  young 
gentleman's  bumptiousness  and  pert  forward 
ness,  the  company  is  rapped  to  order  by  General 
Schuyler  himself.  Lean,  rusty,  arrogant,  super 
cilious,  the  general  explains  that  he  has  been 
asked  to  preside.  Being  established  in  the 
chair,  he  announces  in  a  rasping,  dictatorial 
voice  the  liberal  objects  of  the  coming  together. 
He  submits  that  the  Tories  have  been  unjust 
ly  treated.  It  was,  he  says,  but  natural  they 
117 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

should  adhere  to  King  George.  The  war  being 
over,  and  King  George  beaten,  he  does  not  be 
lieve  it  the  part  of  either  a  Christian  or  a  patriot 
to  hold  hatred  against  them.  These  same 
Tories  are  still  Americans.  Their  names  are 
among  the  highest  in  the  city.  Before  the  Revo 
lution  they  were  one  and  all  of  a  first  respecta 
bility,  many  with  pews  in  Trinity.  Now  when 
freedom  has  won  its  battle,  he  feels  that  the 
victors  should  let  bygones  be  bygones,  and  re 
store  the  Tories,  in  property  and  station,  to  a 
place  which  they  occupied  before  that  pregnant 
Philadelphia  Fourth  of  July  in  1776. 

All  this  and  more  to  similar  effect  the  austere, 
rusty  Schuyler  rasps  forth.  When  he  closes,  a 
profound  silence  succeeds;  for  there  is  no  one 
who  does  not  know  the  Schuyler  power,  or  be 
lieve  that  the  rasping  word  of  the  rusty  old  gen 
eral  is  equal  to  marring  or  furthering  the  for 
tunes  of  every  soul  in  the  room. 

The  pause  is  at  last  broken  by  Aaron.  Self- 
possessed,  steady,  his  remarks  are  brief  but 
pointed.  He  combats  at  every  corner  what  the 
rusty  general  has  been  pleased  to  advance.  The 
Tories  were  traitors.  They  were  worse  than 
the  English.  It  was  they  who  set  the  Indians 
on  our  borders  to  torch  and  tomahawk  and 
118 


SON-IN-LAW    HAMILTON 

scalping  knife.  They  have  been  most  liberally, 
most  mercifully  dealt  with,  when  they  are  per 
mitted  to  go  unhanged.  As  for  restoring  their 
forfeited  estates,  or  permitting  them  any  civil 
share  in  a  government  which  they  did  their  best 
to  strangle  in  its  cradle,  the  thought  is  preposter 
ous.  They  may  have  been  "  respectable,"  as 
General  Schuyler  states;  if  so,  the  respectability 
was  spurious — a  mere  hypocritical  cover  for 
souls  reeking  of  vileness.  They  may  have  had 
pews  in  Trinity.  There  are  ones  who,  want 
ing  pews  in  Trinity,  still  hope  to  make  their 
worldly  foothold  good,  and  save  their  souls  at 
last. 

As  Aaron  takes  his  seat  by  Colonel  Troup,  a 
murmur  of  guarded  agreement  runs  through  the 
company.  Many  are  the  looks  of  surprised  ad 
miration  cast  in  his  young  direction.  Truly,  the 
newcomer  has  made  a  stir. 

Not  that  his  stir-making  is  to  go  unopposed. 
No  sooner  is  Aaron  in  his  chair,  than  son-in-law 
Hamilton  is  upon  him  verbally;  even  while  those 
approving  ones  are  admiringly  buzzing,  he 
begins  to  talk.  His  tones  are  high  and  pat 
ronizing,  his  manner  condescending.  He  speaks 
to  Aaron  direct,  and  not  to  the  audience. 
He  will  do  his  best,  he  explains,  to  be  tol- 
119 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

erant,  for  he  has  heard  that  Aaron  is  new  to 
the  town.  None  the  less,  he  must  ask  that  dar 
ing  person  to  bear  his  newness  more  in  mind. 
He  himself,  he  says,  cannot  escape  the  feeling 
that  one  who  is  no  better  than  a  stranger,  an 
interloper,  might  with  a  nice  propriety  remain 
silent  on  occasions  such  as  this.  Son-in-law 
Hamilton  ends  by  declaring  that  the  position 
taken  by  Aaron,  on  this  subject  of  Tories  and 
what  shall  be  their  rights,  is  un-American.  He, 
himself,  has  fought  for  the  Revolution;  but,  now 
it  is  ended,  he  holds  that  gentlemen  of  honor 
and  liberality  will  not  be  guided  by  the  ugly 
clamor  of  partisans,  who  would  make  the  un 
ending  punishment  of  Tories  a  virtue  and  call 
it  patriotism.  He  fears  that  Aaron  misunder 
stands  the  sentiment  of  those  among  whom  he 
has  pitched  his  tent,  congratulates  him  on  a 
youth  that  offers  an  excuse  for  the  rashness  of 
his  expressions,  and  hopes  that  he  may  live  to 
gain  a  better  wisdom.  Son-in-law  Hamilton 
does  himself  proud,  and  the  rusty  old  general 
erects  his  pleased  crest,  to  find  himself  so  hand 
somely  defended. 

The  rusty  general  exhibits  both  surprise  and 
anger,  when  the  rebuked  Aaron  again  signifies 
a  desire  to  be  heard.    This  time  Aaron,  follow- 
120 


SON-IN-LAW    HAMILTON 

ing  that  orator's  example,  -talks  not  to  the  au 
dience  but  son-in-law  Hamilton  himself. 

"  Our  friend,"  says  Aaron,  "  reminds  me  that 
I  am  young  in  years ;  and  I  think  this  the  more 
generous  on  his  part,  since  I  have  seen  quite  as 
many  years  as  has  he  himself.  He  calls  atten 
tion  to  the  battle-battered  share  he  took  in 
securing  the  liberties  of  this  country;  and, 
while  I  hold  him  better  qualified  to  win  lau 
rels  as  a  son-in-law  than  as  a  soldier,  I  con 
cede  him  the  credit  he  claims.  I  myself  have 
been  a  soldier,  and  while  serving  as  such  was 
so  fortunate  as  to  meet  our  friend.  He  does 
not  remember  the  meeting.  Nor  do  I  blame 
him;  for  it  was  upon  a  day  when  he  had  for 
gotten  his  baggage,  forgotten  one  of  his  guns, 
forgotten  everything,  in  truth,  save  the  English 
behind  him,  and  I  should  be  much  too  vain  if 
I  supposed  that,  under  such  forgetful  circum 
stances,  he  would  remember  me.  As  to  my  new 
ness  in  the  town,  and  that  crippled  Americanism 
wherewith  he  charges  me,  I  have  little  to  say.  I 
got  no  one's  consent  to  come  here ;  I  shall  ask  no 
one's  permission  to  stay.  Doubtless  I  would 
have  been  more  within  a  fashion  had  I  gone 
with  both  questions  to  the  gentleman,  or  to  his 
celebrated  father-in-law,  who  presides  here  to- 
121 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

day.  These  errors,  however,  I  shall  abide  by. 
Also,  I  shall  content  myself  with  an  American 
ism  which,  though  it  possess  none  of  those  sun 
burned,  West  Indian  advantages  so  strikingly 
illustrated  in  the  gentleman,  may  at  least  con 
gratulate  itself  upon  being  two  hundred  years 
old." 

Having  returned  upon  the  self-sufficient  head 
of  son-in-law  Hamilton  those  courtesies  which 
the  latter  lavished  upon  him,  Aaron  proceeds  to 
voice  again,  but  with  more  vigorous  emphasis, 
the  anti-Tory  sentiments  he  has  earlier  ex 
pressed.  When  he  ceases  speaking  there  is  no 
applause,  nothing  save  a  dead  stillness;  for  all 
who  have  heard  feel  that  a  feud  has  been  born 
— a  Burr-Schuyler-Hamilton  feud,  and  are  pru 
dently  inclined  to  await  its  development  before 
pronouncing  for  either  side.  The  feeling,  how 
ever,  would  seem  to  follow  the  lead  of  Aaron; 
for  the  resolution  smelling  of  leniency  toward 
Tories  is  laid  upon  the  table. 


CHAPTER    X 

THAT   SEAT   IN   THE    SENATE 

WHILE  Aaron,  frostily  contemptuous, 
but  with  manners  as  superfine  as 
his  ruffles,  is  saying  those  knife-thrust 
things  to  son-in-law  Hamilton,  that  latter  young 
gentleman's  face  is  a  study  in  black  and  red. 
His  expression  is  a  composite  of  rage  colored  of 
fear.  The  defiance  of  Aaron  is  so  full,  so  frank, 
that  it  seems  studied.  Son-in-law  Hamilton  is 
not  sure  of  its  purpose,  or  what  intrigue  it  may 
hide.  Deeply  impressed  as  to  his  own  impor 
tance,  the  thought  takes  hold  on  him  that 
Aaron's  attack  is  parcel  of  some  deliberate  de 
sign,  held  by  folk  who  either  hate  him  or  envy 
him,  or  both,  to  lure  him  to  the  dueling  ground 
and  kill  him  out  of  the  way.  He  draws  a  long 
breath  at  this,  and  sweats  a  little;  for  life  is 
good  and  death  not  at  all  desired.  He  makes 
no  effort  at  retort,  but  stomachs  in  silence 
those  words  which  burn  his  soul  like  coals  of 
123 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

fire.  What  is  strange,  too,  for  all  their  burn 
ing,  he  vaguely  finds  in  them  some  chilling  touch 
as  of  death.  He  realizes,  as  much  from  the 
grim  fineness  of  Aaron's  manner  as  from  his 
raw,  unguarded  words,  that  he  is  ready  to  carry 
discussion  to  the  cold  verge  of  the  grave. 

Son-in-law  Hamilton's  nature  lacks  in  that  bit 
ter  drop,  so  present  in  Aaron's,  which  teaches 
folk  to  die  but  never  yield.  Wherefore,  in 
his  heart  he  now  shrinks  back,  afraid  to  go  for 
ward  with  a  situation  grown  perilous,  albeit  he 
himself  provoked  it.  Saving  his  credit  with 
ones  who  look,  if  they  do  not  speak,  their  won 
der  at  his  mute  tameness,  he  says  he  will  talk 
with  General  Schuyler  concerning  what  course 
he  shall  pursue.  Saying  which  he  gets  away 
from  the  Fraunces  long-room  somewhat  abrupt 
ly,  feathers  measurably  subdued.  Aaron  lin 
gers  but  a  moment  after  son-in-law  Hamilton 
departs,  and  then  goes  his  polished,  taciturn 
way. 

The  incident  is  a  nine-days'  food  for  gossip; 
wagers  are  made  of  a  coming  bloody  encoun 
ter  between  Aaron  and  son-in-law  Hamilton. 
Those  lose  who  accept  the  sanguinary  side;  the 
two  meet,  but  the  meeting  is  politely  peaceful, 
albeit,  no  good  friendliness,  but  only  a  wider 
124 


THAT    SENATE     SEAT 

separation  is  the  upcome.  The  occasion  is  the 
work  of  son-in-law  Hamilton,  who  is  presented 
by  Colonel  Troup. 

"  We  should  know  each  other  better,  Colonel 
Burr,"  he  observes. 

Son-in-law  Hamilton  seems  the  smiling  pic 
ture  of  an  affability  that  of  itself  is  a  kind  of 
flattery.  Aaron  bows,  while  those  affable  rays 
glance  from  his  chill  exterior  as  from  an  ice 
berg. 

"  Doubtless  we  shall,"  says  he. 

Son-in-law  Hamilton  gets  presently  down  to 
the  serious  purpose  of  his  coming.  "  General 
Schuyler,"  he  says  gravely,  for  he  ever  speaks 
of  his  father-in-law  as  though  the  latter  were  a 
demi-god — "  General  Schuyler  would  like  to 
meet  you;  he  bids  me  ask  you  to  come  to  him." 

Colonel  Troup  is  in  high  excitement.  No 
such  honor  has  been  tendered  one  of  Aaron's 
youth  within  his  memory.  Wholly  the  courtier, 
he  looks  to  see  the  honored  one  eagerly  forward 
to  go  to  General  Schuyler — that  Jove  who  not 
alone  controls  the  local  thunderbolts  but  the 
local  laurels.  He  is  shocked  to  his  courtierlike 
core,  when  Aaron  maintains  his  cold  reserve. 

"Pardon  me,  sir!"  says  Aaron.  "Say  to 
General  Schuyler  that  his  request  is  impossible. 
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AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

I  never  call  on  gentlemen  at  their  suggestion 
and  on  their  affairs.  When  I  have  cause  of 
my  own  to  go  to  General  Schuyler,  I  shall  go. 
Until  then,  if  there  be  reason  for  our  meeting, 
he  must  come  to  me." 

"You  forget  General  Schuyler's  age!"  re 
turns  son-in-law  Hamilton.  There  is  a  ring  of 
threat  in  the  tones. 

"  Sir,"  responds  Aaron  stiffly,  "  I  forget  noth 
ing.  There  is  an  age  cant  which  I  shall  not 
tolerate.  I  desire  to  be  understood  as  saying, 
and  you  may  repeat  my  words  to  whomsoever 
possesses  an  interest,  that  I  shall  not  in  my  own 
conduct  consent  to  a  social  doctrine  which  would 
invest  folk,  because  they  have  lived  sixty  years, 
with  a  franchise  to  patronize  or,  if  they  choose, 
insult  gentlemen  whose  years,  we  will  suppose, 
are  fewer  than  thirty." 

"  I  am  sorry  you  take  this  view,"  returns  son- 
in-law    Hamilton,     copying    Aaron's    stiffness. 
'  You  will  not,  I  fear,  find  many  to  support  you 
in  it." 

"  I  am  not  looking  for  support,  sir,"  observes 
Aaron,  pointing  the  remark  with  one  of  those 
black  ophidian  stares.  "  I  do  you  also  the 
courtesy  to  assume  that  you  intend  no  criticism 
of  myself  by  your  remark." 
126 


THAT    SENATE     SEAT 

There  is  an  inflection  as  though  a  ques 
tion  is  put.  Son-in-law  Hamilton  so  far  sub 
mits  to  the  inflection  as  to  explain.  He  intends 
only  to  say  that  General  Schuyler's  place  in  the 
community  is  of  such  high  and  honorable  sort 
as  to  make  his  request  to  call  upon  him  a  mark 
of  favor.  As  to  criticism:  Why,  then,  he  criti 
cised  no  gentleman. 

There  is  much  profound  bowing,  and  the 
meeting  ends;  Colonel  Troup,  a  trifle  aghast, 
retiring  with  son-in-law  Hamilton,  whose  arm 
he  takes. 

"  There  could  be  no  agreement  with  that 
young  man,"  mutters  Aaron,  looking  after  the 
retreating  Hamilton,  "  save  on  a  basis  of  sub 
mission  to  his  leadership.  I'll  be  chief  or  noth 
ing." 

Aaron  settles  himself  industriously  to  the 
practice  of  law.  In  the  courts,  as  in  everything 
else,  he  is  merciless.  Lucid,  indefatigable,  con 
vincing,  he  asks  no  quarter,  gives  none.  His 
business  expands ;  clients  crowd  about  him ;  pros 
perity  descends  in  a  shower  of  gold. 

Often  he  runs  counter  to  son-in-law  Hamil 
ton — himself  actively  in  the  law — before  judge 
and  jury.  When  they  are  thus  opposed,  each  is 
the  other's  match  for  a  careful  but  wintry  cour- 
127 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

tesy.  For  all  his  courtesy,  however,  Aaron 
never  fails  to  defeat  son-in-law  Hamilton  in 
whatever  litigation  they  are  about.  His  unin 
terrupted  victories  over  son-in-law  Hamilton  are 
an  added  reason  for  the  latter's  jealous  hatred. 
He  and  his  rusty  father-in-law  become  doubly 
Aaron's  foes,  and  grasp  at  every  chance  to  do 
him  harm. 

And  yet,  that  antagonism  has  its  compensa 
tions.  It  brings  Aaron  into  favor  with  Gov 
ernor  Clinton ;  it  finds  him  allies  among  the  Liv 
ingstons.  The  latter  powerful  family  invite  him 
into  their  politics.  He  thanks  them,  but  de 
clines.  He  is  for  the  law;  hungry  to  make 
money,  he  sees  no  profit,  but  only  loss  in  politics. 

In  his  gold-getting,  Aaron  is  marvelously  suc 
cessful;  and,  as  he  rolls  up  riches,  he  buys  land. 
Thus  one  proud  day  he  becomes  master  of  Rich 
mond  Hill,  with  its  lawn  sweeping  down  to  the 
Hudson — Richmond  Hill,  where  he  played 
slave  of  the  quill  to  Washington,  and  suffered 
in  his  vanity  from  the  big  general's  loftily  ab 
stracted  pose. 

Master  of  a  mansion,  Aaron  fills  his  libraries 

with  books  and  his  cellars  with  wine.    Thus  he 

is  never  without  good  company,  reading  the  one 

and  sipping  the  other.     The  faded  Theodosia 

128 


THAT    SENATE     SEAT 

presides  over  his  house;  and,  because  of  her 
years  or  his  lack  of  them,  her  manner  toward 
him  trenches  upon  the  maternal. 

The  household  is  a  hive  of  happiness. 
Aaron,  who  takes  the  pedagogue  instinct  from 
sire  and  grandsire,  puts  in  his  leisure  drilling 
the  small  Prevost  boys  in  their  lessons.  He  will 
have  them  talking  Latin  and  reading  Greek  like 
little  priests,  before  he  is  done  with  them.  As 
for  baby  Theodosia,  she  reigns  the  chubby  queen 
of  all  their  hearts;  it  is  to  her  credit  not  theirs 
that  she  isn't  hopelessly  spoiled. 

In  his  wine  and  his  reading,  Aaron's  tastes 
take  opposite  directions.  The  books  he  likes  are 
heavy,  while  his  best-liked  wines  are  light.  He 
reads  Jeremy  Bentham;  also  he  finds  comfort 
in  William  Godwin  and  Mary  Wollstonecraft. 
He  adorns  his  study  with  a  portrait  of  the  lady ; 
which  feat  in  decoration  furnishes  the  prudish 
a  pang. 

These  book  radicalisms,  and  his  weaknesses 
for  alarming  doctrines,  social  and  political,  do 
not  help  Aaron's  standing  with  respectable 
hypocrites,  of  whom  there  are  vast  numbers 
about,  and  who  in  its  fashion  and  commerce 
and  politics  give  the  town  a  tone.  These  whited 
sepulchers  of  society  purse  discreet  yet  condem- 
10  129 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

natory  lips  when  Aaron's  name  is  mentioned, 
and  speak  of  him  as  favoring  "  Benthamism  " 
and  "  Godwinism."  Our  dullard  pharisee  folk 
know  no  more  of  "  Benthamism  "  and  "  God 
winism  "  in  their  definitions,  than  of  plant  life 
in  the  planet  Mars ;  but  their  manner  is  the  man 
ner  of  ones  who  speak  of  evils  tenfold  worse 
than  murder.  Aaron  pays  no  heed ;  neither  does 
he  fret  over  the  innuendoes  of  these  hypocritical 
ones.  He  was  born  full  of  contempt  for  men's 
opinions,  and  has  fostered  and  flattered  it  into 
a  kind  of  cold  passion.  Occupied  with  the  loved 
ones  at  Richmond  Hill,  careless  to  the  point  of 
blind  and  deaf  of  all  outside,  he  seeks  only  to 
win  lawsuits  and  pile  up  gold.  And  never  once 
does  his  glance  rove  officeward. 

This  anti-office  coolness  is  all  on  Aaron's  side. 
He  does  not  pursue  office;  but  now  and  again 
office  pursues  him.  Twice  he  goes  to  the  legis 
lature;  next,  Governor  Clinton  asks  him  to  be 
come  attorney  general.  As  attorney  general  he 
makes  one  of  a  commission,  Governor  Clinton 
at  its  head,  which  sells  five  and  a  half  million 
acres  of  the  State's  public  land  for  $1,030,000. 
The  highest  price  received  is  three  shillings  an 
acre;  the  purchasers  number  six.  The  big  sale 
is  to  Alexander  McComb,  who  is  given  a  deed 
130 


THAT    SENATE     SEAT 

for  three  million  six  hundred  thousand  acres  at 
eight-pence  an  acre.  The  public  howls  over 
these  surprising  transactions  in  real  estate.  The 
popular  anger,  however,  is  leveled  at  Governor 
Clinton,  he  being  a  sort  of  Caesar.  Aaron,  who 
dwells  more  in  the  background,  escapes  un 
scathed. 

While  these  several  matters  go  forward,  the 
nation  adopts  a  constitution.  Then  it  elects 
Washington  President,  and  sets  up  government 
shop  in  New  York.  Aaron's  part  in  these 
mighty  doings  is  the  quiet  part.  He  does  not 
think  much  of  the  Constitution,  but  accepts  it; 
he  thinks  less  of  Washington,  but  accepts  him, 
too.  It  is  within  the  rim  of  the  possible  that 
son-in-law  Hamilton,  invited  into  Washington's 
Cabinet  as  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  helps  the 
administration  to  a  lowest  place  in  Aaron's  es 
teem;  for  Aaron  is  a  priceless  hater,  and  that 
feud  is  in  no  degree  relaxed. 

When  the  national  government  is  born,  the 
rusty  General  Schuyler  and  Rufus  King  are  cho 
sen  senators  for  New  York.  The  rusty  old  gen 
eral,  in  the  two-handed  lottery  which  ensues, 
draws  the  shorter  term.  This  in  no  wise  weighs 
upon  him;  what  difference  should  it  make?  At 
the  close  of  that  short  term,  he  will  be  reflected 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

for  a  full  term  of  six  years.  To  assume  other 
wise  would  be  preposterous;  the  rusty  old  gen 
eral  feels  no  such  short-term  uneasiness. 

Washington  has  two  weaknesses:  he  loves 
flattery,  and  he  is  a  bad  judge  of  men.  Son-in- 
law  Hamilton,  because  he  flatters  best,  sits  high 
est  in  the  Washington  esteem.  He  is  the  right 
arm  of  the  big  Virginian's  administration;  also 
he  is  quite  as  confident,  as  the  rusty  General 
""  Schuyler,  of  that  latter  personage's  reelection. 
Indeed,  if  he  could  be  prevailed  upon  to  answer 
queries  so  foolish,  he  would  say  that,  of  all  sure 
future  things,  the  Senate  reelection  of  the  rusty 
general  is  surest.  Not  a  cloud  of  doubt  is  seen 
in  the  skies. 

And  yet  there  lives  one  who,  from  his  place  as 
attorney  general,  is  watching  that  Senate  seat 
as  a  tiger  watches  its  prey.  Noiselessly,  yet  none 
the  less  powerfully,  Aaron  gathers  himself  for 
the  spring.  Both  his  pride  and  his  hate  are  in 
volved  in  what  he  is  about.  To  be  a  senator  is 
to  wear  a  proudest  title  in  the  land.  In  this 
instance,  to  be  a  senator  means  a  staggering 
blow  to  that  Schuyler-Hamilton  tribe  whose  foe 
he  is.  More;  it  opens  a  pathway  to  the  injury 
of  Washington.  Aaron  would  be  even  for  what 
long  ago  war  slights  the  big  general  put  upon 
132 


THAT    SENATE     SEAT 

him,  slights  which  he  neither  forgets  nor  for 
gives.  He  smiles  a  pale,  thin-lipped  smile  as 
he  pictures  with  the  eye  of  rancorous  imagina 
tion  the  look  which  will  spread  across  the  face 
of  Washington,  when  he  hears  of  the  rusty 
Schuyler's  overthrow,  and  him  who  brought 
that  overthrow  about.  The  smile  is  quick  to 
die,  however,  since  he  who  would  strip  his  toga 
from  the  rusty  Schuyler  must  not  sit  down  to 
dreams  and  castle  building. 

Aaron  goes  silently  yet  sedulously  about  his 
plans.  In  their  execution  he  foresees  that  many 
will  be  hurt ;  none  the  less  the  stubborn  outlook 
does  not  daunt  him.  One  cannot  make  ome 
lettes  without  breaking  eggs. 

In  his  coming  war  with  the  rusty  Schuyler, 
Aaron  feels  the  need  of  two  things:  he  must 
have  an  issue,  and  he  must  have  allies.  It  is 
of  vital  importance  to  bring  Governor  Clinton 
to  the  shoulder  of  his  ambitions.  He  looks  that 
potentate  over  with  a  calculating  eye,  making  a 
mental  catalogue  of  his  approachable  points. 

The  old  governor  is  of  Irish  blood  and  Irish 
temper.  His  ancestors  were  not  the  quietest 
folk  in  Galway.  Being  of  gunpowder  stock,  he 
dearly  loves  a  foe,  and  will  no  more  forget  an 
injury  than  a  favor.  Aaron  shows  the  old  gov- 
133 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

ernor  that,  in  his  late  election,  the  Schuyler- 
Hamilton  interest  was  slyly  behind  his  opponent 
Judge  Yates,  and  nearly  brought  home  victory 
for  the  latter. 

"  You  owe  General  Schuyler,"  he  says,  "  no 
help  at  this  pinch.  Still  less  are  you  in  debt  to 
Hamilton.  It  was  the  latter  who  put  Yates  in 
the  field." 

"  And  yet,"  protests  the  old  governor,  in 
clined  to  anger,  but  not  quite  convinced — "  and 
yet  I  saw  no  signs  of  either  Schuyler  or  his 
son-in-law  in  the  business." 

"  Sir,  that  is  their  duplicity.  One  so  open 
as  yourself  would  be  the  last  to  discover  such 
intrigues.  The  young  fox  Hamilton  managed 
the  affair;  in  doing  so,  he  moved  only  in  the 
dark,  walked  in  all  the  running  water  he  could 
find." 

What  Aaron  says  is  true ;  in  the  finish  he  gives 
proof  of  it  to  the  old  governor.  At  this  the 
latter's  Irish  blood  begins  to  gather  heat. 

"  It  is  as  you  tell  me!  "  he  cries  at  last;  "  I 
can  see  it  now !  That  West  Indian  runagate 
Hamilton  was  the  bug  under  the  Yates  chip!  " 

"  And  you  must  not  forget,  sir,  that  for  every 
scheme  of  politics  '  Schuyler '  and  *  Hamilton  ' 
are  interchangeable." 

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THAT    SENATE     SEAT 

"  You  are  right!  When  one  pulls  the  other 
pushes.  They  are  my  enemies,  and  I  shall  not 
be  less  than  theirs." 

The  governor  asks  Aaron  what  candidate  they 
shall  pit  against  the  rusty  Schuyler.  Aaron  has 
thus  far  said  nothing  of  himself  in  any  toga 
connection,  fearing  that  the  old  governor  may 
regard  his  thirty-six  years  as  lacking  proper 
gravity.  Being  urged  to  suggest  a  name,  he 
waxes  discreet.  He  believes,  he  says,  that  the 
Livingstons  can  be  prevailed  upon  to  come  out 
against  the  rusty  Schuyler,  if  properly  ap 
proached.  Such  approach  might  be  more  grace 
fully  made  if  no  candidate  is  pitched  upon  at 
this  time. 

"  From  your  place,  sir,  as  governor,"  ob 
serves  the  skillful  Aaron,  "  you  could  not  of 
course  condescend  to  go  in  person  to  the  Liv 
ingstons.  My  position,  however,  is  not  so  high 
nor  my  years  so  many  as  are  yours;  I  need  not 
scruple  to  take  up  the  matter  with  them.  As 
to  a  candidate,  I  can  go  to  them  more  easily  if 
we  leave  the  question  open.  I  could  tell  the 
Livingstons  that  you  would  like  a  suggestion 
from  them  on  that  point.  It  would  flatter  their 
pride." 

The  old  governor  is  pleased  to  regard  with 
135 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

favor  the  reasoning  of  Aaron.  He  remarks, 
too,  that  with  him  the  candidate  is  not  impor 
tant.  The  main  thought  is  to  defeat  the  rusty 
Schuyler,  who,  with  son-in-law  Hamilton,  so 
aforetime  played  the  hypocrite,  and  pulled 
treacherous  wires  against  him,  in  the  hope  of 
compassing  his  defeat.  He  declares  himself 
quite  satisfied  to  let  the  Livingstons  select  what 
fortunate  one  is  to  be  the  senate  successor  of  the 
rusty  Schuyler.  He  urges  Aaron  to  wait  on  the 
Livingstons  without  delay,  and  discover  their 
feeling. 

Aaron  confers  with  the  Livingstons,  and 
shows  them  many  things.  Mostly  he  shows 
them  that,  should  he  himself  be  chosen  senator, 
it  will  necessitate  his  resignation  as  attorney 
general.  Also,  he  makes  it  appear  that,  if  the 
old  governor  be  properly  approached,  he  will 
name  Morgan  Lewis  to  fill  the  vacancy.  The 
Livingston  eye  glistens;  the  mother  of  Morgan 
Lewis  is  a  Livingston,  and  the  office  of  attorney 
general  should  match  the  gentleman's  fortunes 
nicely.  Besides,  there  are  several  ways  wherein 
an  attorney  general  might  be  of  much  Living 
ston  use.  No,  the  Livingstons  do  not  say  these 
things.  They  say  instead  that  none  is  more 
nobly  equipped  for  the  role  of  senator  than 

136 


THAT    SENATE     SEAT 

Aaron.  Finally,  it  is  the  Livingstons  who  go 
back  to  the  old  governor.  Nor  do  they  find  it 
difficult  to  convince  him  that  Aaron  is  the  one 
surest  of  defeating  the  rusty  Schuyler. 

"  Colonel  Burr,"  say  the  Livingstons,  "  has 
no  record,  which  is  another  way  of  saying  that 
he  has  no  enemies.  We  deem  this  most  im 
portant;  it  will  lessen  the  effort  required  to  bring 
about  him  a  majority  of  the  legislature." 

The  old  governor,  as  Aaron  feared,  is  in 
clined  to  shy  at  the  not  too  many  years  of  our 
ambitious  one;  but  after  a  bit  Aaron,  as  a  notion, 
begins  to  grow  upon  him. 

"  He  has  brains,  sir,"  observes  the  old  gov 
ernor  thoughtfully — "  he  has  brains;  and  that 
is  of  more  consequence  than  mere  years.  He 
has  double  the  intelligence  of  Schuyler,  although 
he  may  not  count  half  his  age.  I  call  that  to  his 
credit,  sir."  The  chief  of  the  clan-Livingston 
shares  the  Clinton  view. 

And  now  takes  place  a  competition  in  en 
comium.  Between  the  chief  of  the  clan-Living 
ston,  and  the  old  governor,  so  many  excellences 
are  ascribed  to  Aaron  that,  did  he  own  but  the 
half,  he  might  call  himself  a  model  for  mankind. 
As  for  Morgan  Lewis,  who  is  a  Livingston,  the 
old  governor  sees  in  him  almost  as  many  vir- 
137 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

tues  as  he  perceives  in  Aaron.  He  gives  the 
chief  of  the  clan-Livingston  hand  and  word  that, 
when  Aaron  steps  out  of  the  attorney  general 
ship,  Morgan  Lewis  shall  step  in. 

Having  drawn  to  his  support  the  two  most 
powerful  influences  of  the  State,  Aaron  makes 
search  for  an  issue.  He  looks  into  the  mouth 
of  the  public,  and  there  it  is.  Politicians  do  not 
make  issues,  albeit  poets  have  sung  otherwise. 
Indeed,  issues  are  so  much  like  the  poets  them 
selves  that  they  are  born,  not  made.  Every  age 
has  its  issue;  from  it,  as  from  clay,  the  poli 
ticians  mold  the  bricks  wherewith  they  build 
themselves  into  office.  The  issue  is  the  ques 
tion  which  the  people  ask;  it  is  to  be  found  only 
in  the  popular  mouth.  That  is  where  Aaron 
looks  for  it,  and  his  quest  is  rewarded. 

The  issue,  so  much  demanded  of  Aaron's  des 
tinies,  is  one  of  those  big-little  questions  which 
now  and  then  arise  to  agitate  the  souls  of  folk, 
and  demonstrate  the  greatness  of  the  small. 
There  are  twenty-eight  members  in  the  National 
Senate;  and,  since  it  is  the  first  Senate  and  has 
had  no  predecessor,  there  exist  no  precedents 
for  it  to  guide  by.  Also  those  twenty-eight  sen 
ators  are  puffballs  of  vanity. 

On  the  first  day  of  their  first  coming  together 

138 


THAT    SENATE     SEAT 

they  prove  the  purblind  sort  of  their  conceit,  by 
shutting  their  doors  in  the  public's  face.  They 
say  they  will  hold  their  sessions  in  secret.  The 
public  takes  this  action  in  dudgeon,  and  begins 
filing  its  teeth. 

Puffiest  among  those  senate  puffballs  is  the 
rusty  Schuyler.  As  narrow  as  he  is  arrogant, 
as  dull  as  vain,  his  contempt  for  the  herd  was 
never  a  secret.  As  a  senator,  he  declares  himself 
the  guardian,  not  the  servant,  of  a  people  too 
weakly  foolish  for  the  safe  transaction  of  their 
own  affairs. 

It  is  against  this  self-sufficient  attitude  of  the 
rusty  Schuyler  touching  locked  senate  doors  that 
Aaron  wages  war.  He  urges  that,  in  a  repub 
lic,  but  two  keys  go  with  government;  one  is  to 
the  treasury,  the  other  to  the  jail.  He  argues 
that  not  even  a  senate  will  lock  a  door  unless  it 
be  either  ashamed  or  afraid  of  what  it  is  about. 

"Of  what  is  our  Senate  afraid?"  he  asks. 
"  Of  what  is  it  ashamed?  I  cannot  answer  these 
questions;  the  people  cannot  answer  them.  I 
recommend  that  those  who  are  interested  ask 
General  Schuyler." 

The  public  puts  the  questions  to  the  rusty 
Schuyler.  Not  receiving  an  answer,  the  public 
carries  the  questions  to  the  legislature,  where 
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AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

the  Clinton  and  Livingston  influences  come 
sharply  to  the  popular  support. 
"  Shall  the  Senate  lock  its  door?  " 
The  Clintons  say  No;  the  Livingstons  say 
No;  the  people  say  No.  Under  such  over 
bearing  circumstances,  the  legislature  feels 
driven  to  say  No;  and,  as  a  best  method  of 
saying  it,  elects  to  the  Senate  Aaron,  who  is  a 
"  door-opener,"  over  the  rusty  Schuyler,  who 
is  a  "  door-closer,"  by  a  majority  of  thirteen. 
It  is  no  longer  u  Aaron  Burr,"  no  longer  "  Colo 
nel  Burr,"  it  is  "  Senator  Burr."  The  news 
heaps  the  full  weight  of  ten  years  on  the  rusty 
Schuyler.  As  for  son-in-law  Hamilton,  the 
blasting  word  of  it  withers  and  makes  sick  his 
heart. 


CHAPTER    XI 

THE    STATESMAN    FROM   NEW   YORK 

THE  shop  of  government  has  been 
moved  to  Philadelphia.  In  the  brief 
space  between  the  overthrow  of  the 
rusty  Schuyler  by  Aaron,  and  the  latter  taking 
his  seat,  the  great  ones  talk  of  nothing  but  that 
overthrow.  Washington  vaguely  and  Jefferson 
clearly  read  in  the  victory  of  Aaron  the  begin 
ning  of  a  new  order.  It  is  extravagantly  an 
hour  of  classes  and  masses;  and  the  most  dull 
does  not  fail  to  make  out  in  the  Senate  unseat 
ing  of  the  rusty  but  aristocratic  Schuyler  a  tri 
umphant  clutch  at  power  by  the  masses. 

Something  of  the  sort  crops  up  in  conversa 
tion  about  the  President's  dinner  table.  The 
occasion  is  informal;  save  for  Vice-President 
Adams,  those  present  are  of  the  Cabinet. 
Washington  himself  brings  up  the  subject. 

"  It  is  the  strangest  news!  "  says  he — "  this 
word  of  the  Senate  success  of  Colonel  Burr." 
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AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

Then,  appealing  to  Hamilton:  "  Of  what  could 
your  folk  of  New  York  have  been  thinking? 
General  Schuyler  is  a  gentleman  of  fortune,  the 
head  of  one  of  the  oldest  families!  This  Colo 
nel  Burr  is  a  young  man  of  small  fortune,  and 
no  family  at  all." 

"  Sir,"  breaks  in  Adams  with  pompous  im 
petuosity,  "  you  go  wide.  Colonel  Burr  is  of  the 
best  blood  of  New  England.  His  grandsire  was 
Jonathan  Edwards;  on  his  father's  side  the 
strain  is  as  high.  You  would  look  long,  sir, 
before  you  discovered  one  who  has  a  better 
pedigree." 

"  Whatever  may  be  the  gentleman's  pedi 
gree,"  retorts  Hamilton  splenetically,  "  you 
will  at  least  confess  it  to  be  only  a  New  England 
pedigree." 

"  Only  a  New  England  pedigree !  "  exclaims 
Adams,  in  indignant  wonder.  "  Why,  sir, 
when  you  say  '  The  best  pedigree  in  New  Eng 
land,'  you  have  spoken  of  the  best  pedigree  in 
the  world!" 

"  Waiving  that,"  returns  Hamilton,  "  I  may 
at  least  assure  you,  sir,  that  in  New  York  your 
best  New  England  pedigree  does  not  invoke  the 
reverence  which  you  seem  to  pay  it.  No,  sir; 
the  success  of  Colonel  Burr  was  the  result  of  no 
142 


THE     STATESMAN 

pedigree.  No  one  cared  whether  he  were  the 
grandson  of  Jonathan  Edwards  or  Tom  o'  Bed 
lam.  Colonel  Burr  won  by  lies  and  trickery ;  by 
the  same  methods  through  which  a  thief  might 
win  possession  of  your  horse.  Stripping  the 
subject  of  every  polite  veneer  of  phrase,  the 
fellow  stole  his  victory."  At  this  harshness 
Adams  looks  horrified,  while  Jefferson,  who 
has  listened  with  interest,  shrugs  his  wide 
shoulders. 

Washington  appears  wondrously  impressed. 
Strong,  honest,  slow,  he  is  in  no  wise  keen  at 
reading  men.  Hamilton — quick,  supple,  subser 
vient,  a  brilliant  flatterer — has  complete  posses 
sion  of  him.  He  admires  Hamilton,  rejoices  in 
him  in  a  large,  bland  manner  of  patronage. 

The  pair,  in  their  mutual  attitudes,  are  not 
unlike  a  huge  mastiff  and  some  small  vivacious, 
spiteful,  half-bred  terrier  that  makes  himself  the 
mastiff's  satellite.  Terrier  Hamilton — brisk, 
busy,  overbearing,  not  always  honest — rushes 
hither  and  yon,  insulting  one  man,  trespassing  on 
another.  Let  the  insulted  one  but  threaten  or  the 
injured  one  pursue,  at  once  Terrier  Hamilton 
takes  skulking  refuge  behind  Mastiff  Washing 
ton.  And  the  latter  never  fails  Terrier  Hamil 
ton.  Blinded  by  his  overweening  partiality,  a 
143 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

partiality  that  has  no  reason  beyond  his  own  in 
nate  love  of  flattery,  Washington  ever  saves 
Hamilton  blameless,  whatever  may  have  been 
his  evil  deeds. 

Washington  constitutes  Hamilton's  stock  in 
national  trade.  In  New  York,  Hamilton  is  the 
rusty  Schuyler's  son-in-law — heir  to  his  riches, 
lieutenant  of  his  name.  In  the  nation  at  large, 
however,  Hamilton  traffics  on  that  confident 
nearness  to  Washington,  and  his  known  ability 
to  pull  or  haul  or  lead  the  big  Virginian  any  way 
he  will.  To  have  a  full-blown  President  to  be 
your  hand  gun  is  no  mean  equipment,  and  Ham 
ilton,  be  sure,  makes  the  fullest,  if  not  the  most 
honest  or  honorable,  use  of  it. 

"  Now  I  do  not  think  it  was  either  the  noble 
New  England  blood  of  Colonel  Burr,  or  his 
skill  as  a  politician,  that  defeated  General 
Schuyler." 

The  voice — while  not  without  a  note  of  jeer 
ing — is  bell-like  and  deep,  the  thoughtful,  well- 
assured  voice  of  Jefferson.  Washington  glances 
at  his  angular,  sandy-haired  Secretary  of  State. 

"  What  was  it,  then,"  he  asks. 

"  I  will  tell  you  my  thought,"  replies  Jeffer 
son.  "  General  Schuyler  was  beaten  by  that 
very  fortune,  added  to  that  very  headship  of  a 
144 


THE     STATESMAN 

foremost  family,  which  you  hold  should  have 
been  unanswerable  for  his  election.  The  people 
are  reaching  out,  sir,  for  the  republican  rule 
that  is  their  right,  and  which  they  conquered 
from  England.  You  know,  as  well  as  I,  what 
followed  the  peace  of  Paris  in  this  country.  It 
was  not  democracy,  but  aristocracy.  The  gov 
ernment  has  been  taken  under  the  self-sufficient 
wing  of  a  handful  of  families,  that,  having 
great  property  rights,  hold  themselves  forth  as 
heaven-anointed  rulers  of  the  land.  The  people 
are  becoming  aroused  to  both  their  powers  and 
their  rights.  In  the  going  of  General  Schuyler 
and  the  coming  of  Colonel  Burr,  I  find  nothing 
worse  than  a  gratifying  notice  that  American 
mankind  intends  to  have  a  voice  in  its  own  gov 
ernment." 

"  You  appear  pleased,  sir,"  observes  Hamil 
ton  bitterly. 

"  Pleased  is  but  a  poor  word.  It  no  more 
than  faintly  expresses  the  satisfaction  I  feel." 

"You  amaze  me!"  interrupts  Adams,  as 
much  the  aristocrat  as  either  Washington  or 
Hamilton,  but  of  a  different  tribe.  "  Do  I  un 
derstand,  sir,  that  you  will  welcome  the  rule  of 
the  mob?" 

"  The  *  mob,'  "  retorts  Jefferson,  "  can  be 
11  145 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

trusted  to  guard  its  own  liberty..  The  mob 
won  that  liberty,  sir!  Who,  then,  should  be 
better  prepared  to  stand  sentinel  over  it?  Not 
a  handful  of  rich  snobs,  surely,  who,  in  the 
arrogant  idleness  which  their  money  permits, 
play  at  caste  and  call  themselves  an  American 
peerage." 

"  Government  by  the  mob !  "  gasps  Adams, 
who,  in  the  narrowness  of  his  New  England 
vanity — honest  man! — has  passed  his  life  on  a 
self-erected  pedestal.  "  Government  by  the 
mob !  " 

"  And  why  not,  sir  ?  "  demands  Jefferson 
sharply.  "  It  is  the  mob's  government.  Who 
shall  contradict  the  mob's  right  to  control  its 
own?  Have  we  but  shuffled  off  one  royalty  to 
shuffle  on  another?  " 

Adams,  excellent  pig-head,  can  say  no  more; 
besides,  he  fears  the  quick-tongued  Secretary  of 
State.  Hamilton,  too,  is  heedful  to  avoid  Jef 
ferson,  and,  following  that  democrat's  declara 
tions  anent  mob  right  and  mob  rule,  glances  with 
questioning  eye  at  Washington,  as  though  im 
ploring  him  to  come  to  the  rescue.  With  this 
the  big  President  begins  to  unlimber  com 
placently. 

u  Government,  my  dear  Jefferson,"  he  says, 
146 


THE     STATESMAN 

wheeling  himself  like  some  great  gun  into  argu 
mentative  position,  "  may  be  discussed  in  the 
abstract,  but  must  be  administered  in  the  con 
crete.  I  think  a  best  picture  of  government  is  a 
shepherd  with  his  flock  of  sheep.  He  finds  them 
a  safety  and  a  better  pasturage  than  they  could 
find  for  themselves.  He  is  necessary  to  the 
sheep,  as  the  sheep  are  necessary  to  him.  He 
can  be  trusted;  since  his  interest  is  the  interest 
of  the  flock." 

Jefferson  grins  a  hard,  angular  grin,  in  which 
there  is  wisdom,  patience,  courage,  but  not  one 
gleam  of  humor.  "  I  cannot,"  says  he,  "  ac 
cept  your  simile  of  sheep  and  shepherd  a^  a 
happy  one.  The  people  of  this  country  are  far 
from  being  addle-pated  sheep.  Nor  do  I  find 
our  self-selected  shepherds  " — here  he  lets  his 
glance  rove  cynically  to  Adams  and  Hamilton 
— "  such  profound  scientists  of  civil  rule.  Your 
shepherd  is  a  dictator.  This  republic — if  it  is  a 
republic — might  more  justly  be  likened  to  a 
company  of  merchants,  equal  in  interests,  who 
appoint  agents,  but  retain  among  themselves  the 
control." 

"  And  yet,"  observes  Hamilton,  who  can 
think  of  nothing  but  Aaron  and  his  own  hatred 
for  that  new  senator,  "  the  present  question  is 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

one,  not  of  republics  or  dictatorships,  but  of 
Colonel  Burr.  I  know  him;  know  him  well. 
You  will  find  him  a  crooked  gun." 

"  It  is  ten  years  since  I  saw  him,"  observes 
Washington.  "  I  did  not  like  him;  but  that  was 
because  of  a  forward  impertinence  which  ill  be 
came  his  years.  Besides,  I  thought  him  egotis 
tical,  selfish,  of  no  high  aims.  That,  as  I  say, 
was  ten  years  ago ;  he  may  have  changed  vastly 
for  the  better." 

"  There  has  been  no  bettering  change,  sir," 
returns  Hamilton.  His  manner  is  purring,  in 
sinuating,  the  courtier  manner,  and  conveys  the 
impression  of  one  who  seeks  only  to  protect 
Washington  from  betrayal  by  his  own  goodness 
of  heart.  "  Sir,  he  is  more  egotistical,  more 
selfish,  than  when  you  parted  from  him.  I  think 
it  my  duty,  since  the  gentleman  will  have  his 
place  in  government,  to  speak  plainly.  I  hold 
Colonel  Burr  to  be  a  veriest  firebrand  of  disor 
der.  None  knows  better  than  I  the  peril  of 
this  man.  Bold  at  once  and  bad,  there  is  noth 
ing  too  high  for  his  ambition  to  fly  at,  nothing 
too  low  for  his  intrigue  to  embrace.  He  is  both 
Jack  Cade  and  Cromwell.  Like  the  one,  he 
possesses  a  sinister  attraction  for  the  vulgar 
herd;  like  the  other,  he  would  not  hesitate  to 
148 


THE     STATESMAN 

lead  the  herd  against  government  itself,  in  fur 
therance  of  his  vile  projects." 

Neither  Adams  nor  Jefferson  goes  wholly  un 
affected  by  these  malignancies;  while  Washing 
ton,  whose  credulity  is  measureless  when  Ham 
ilton  speaks,  drinks  them  in  like  spring  water. 

"  Well,"  observes  the  cautious  Jefferson,  as 
closing  the  discussion,  "  the  gentleman  himself 
will  soon  be  among  us,  and  fairness,  if  not 
prudence,  suggests  that  we  defer  judgment 
on  him  until  experience  has  given  us  a  basis 
for  it." 

"  You  will  find,"  says  Hamilton,  "  that  he 
is,  as  I  tell  you,  but  a  crooked  gun." 

Aaron  takes  his  oath  as  senator,  and  sinks 
into  a  seat  among  his  reverend  fellows.  As  he 
does  so  he  cannot  repress  a  cynical  glance  about 
him — cynical,  since  he  sees  more  to  despise  than 
respect.  It  is  the  opening  day  of  the  session. 
Washington  as  President,  severe,  of  an  implaca 
ble  dignity,  appears  and  reads  a  solemn  address. 
Later,  according  to  custom,  both  Senate  and 
House  send  delegations  to  wait  upon  Washing 
ton,  and  read  solemn  addresses  to  him. 

His  colleagues  pitch  upon  Aaron  to  prepare 
the  address  for  the  Senate,  since  he  is  supposed 
to  have  a  genius  for  phrases.  The  precious  doc- 
149 


AN    AMERICAN    PATRICIAN 

ument  in  his  pocket,  Vice-President  Adams  on 
his  arm,  Aaron  leads  the  Senate  delegation  to 
the  President's  house.  They  find  the  big  Vir 
ginian  awaiting  them  in  the  long  dining  room, 
which  apartment  has  been  transformed  into 
an  audience  chamber  by  the  simple  expedient 
of  carrying  out  the  table  and  shoving  back  the 
chairs. 

Washington  stands  near  the  great  fireplace. 
At  his  elbow  and  a  step  to  the  rear,  a  look  of 
lackey  fawning  on  his  face,  whispering,  beam 
ing,  blandishing,  basking,  is  Hamilton.  Utterly 
the  sycophant,  wholly  the  politician,  he  holds 
onto  Washington  by  those  before-mentioned 
tendrils  of  flattery,  and  finds  in  him  a  trellis, 
whereon  to  climb  and  clamber  and  blossom, 
wanting  which  he  would  fall  groveling  to  the 
ground.  The  big  Virginian — and  that  is  the 
worst  of  it — is  as  much  led  by  him  as  any  blind 
man  by  his  dog. 

Washington  has  changed  as  a  figure  since  he 
and  Aaron,  on  that  far-off  day,  disagreed  touch 
ing  leaves  of  absence  without  pay.  Instead  of 
rusty  blue  and  buff,  frayed  and  stained  of 
weather,  he  is  clad  in  a  suit  of  superb  black 
velvet,  with  black  silk  stockings  and  silver 
buckles.  His  hair,  white  as  snow  with  powder, 
150 


THE     STATESMAN 

is  gathered  behind  in  a  silken  bag.  In  one  of 
his  large  hands,  made  larger  by  yellow  gloves, 
he  holds  a  cocked  hat — brave  with  gold  braid, 
cockade,  and  plume.  A  huge  sword,  with  pol 
ished  steel  hilt  and  white  scabbard,  dangles  by 
his  side.  It  is  in  this  notable  uniform  our  Presi 
dent  receives  the  Senate  delegation,  Aaron  and 
Vice-President  Adams  at  the  head,  as  it  gathers 
in  a  formal  half-circle  about  him. 

Being  thus  happily  disposed,  Adams  in  a 
raucous,  pragmatic  voice  reads  Aaron's  address. 
It  is  quite  as  hollow  and  pointless  and  vacant  of 
purpose  as  was  Washington's.  Its  delivery, 
however,  is  loftily  heavy,  since  the  mummery  is 
held  a  most  important  element  of  what  tinsel- 
isms  make  up  the  etiquette  of  our  American 
court.  Save  that  the  audience  chamber  is  less 
sumptuous,  the  ceremony  might  pass  for  King 
George  receiving  his  ministers,  instead  of  Pres 
ident  George  receiving  a  delegation  from  the 
Senate. 

No  one  is  more  disagreeably  aroused  by  this 
paltry  imitation  of  royalty  than  Aaron.  Some 
glint  of  his  contempt  must  show  in  his  eyes;  for 
Hamilton,  eager  to  make  the  conqueror  of  the 
rusty  Schuyler  as  offensive  to  Washington  as  he 
may,  is  swift  to  draw  him  out. 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

''Welcome  to  the  Capitol,  Senator  Burr!" 
he  exclaims,  when  Adams  has  finished.  "  This, 
I  believe,  is  your  earliest  appearance  here.  I 
doubt  not  you  find  the  opening  of  our  Congress 
exceedingly  impressive." 

Since  Aaron  came  into  the  presence  of  Wash 
ington,  he  has  arrived  at  divers  decisions  which 
will  have  effect  in  the  country's  story,  before 
the  curtain  of  time  descends  and  the  play  of 
government  is  played  out.  His  first  feeling  is 
one  of  angry  repugnance  toward  Washington 
himself.  He  liked  him  little  as  a  general;  he 
likes  him  less  as  a  president. 

"  I  shall  be  no  friend  to  this  man,"  thinks  he, 
"  nor  he  to  me." 

Aaron  tries  to  believe  that  his  resentment  is 
due  to  Washington's  all  but  royal  state.  In  his 
heart,  however,  he  knows  that  his  wrath  is  per 
sonal.  He  reconsiders  that  discouraging  roy 
alty,  and  puts  his  feeling  upon  more  probable 
grounds. 

"  I  distaste  him,"  he  decides,  "  because  he 
meets  no  man  on  level  terms.  He  places  him 
self  on  a  plane  by  himself.  He  looks  down  to 
everybody ;  everybody  must  look  up  to  him.  He 
is  incapable  of  friendship,  and  will  either  be 
guardian  or  jailer  to  mankind.  He  told  Put- 
152 


THE     STATESMAN 

nam  I  was  vain,  conceited.  Was  there  ever 
such  blind  vanity  as  his  own?  No;  he  will  be 
no  man's  friend — this  self-discovered  demigod! 
He  does  not  desire  friends.  What  he  hungers 
for  is  adulation,  incense.  He  prefers  none 
about  him  save  knee-crooking  sycophants — like 
this  smirking  parasitish  Hamilton." 

Aaron,  while  the  pompous  Adams  thunders 
forth  that  empty  address,  resolves  to  hold  him 
self  aloof  from  Washington  and  all  who  belt 
him  round.  Being  in  this  high  mood,  he  wel 
comes  the  opportunity  which  Hamilton's  remark 
affords  him,  to  publicly  notify  those  present  of 
his  position. 

"  It  will  be  as  well,51  he  ruminates,  "  to  post, 
not  alone  these  good  people  of  Cabinet  and 
Senate,  but  the  royal  Washington  himself.  I 
shall  let  them,  and  let  him,  know  that  I  am  not 
to  be  a  follower  of  this  republican  king  of 


ours." 


"  Yes,"  repeats  Hamilton,  with  a  side  glance 
at  Washington,  who  for  the  moment  is  talking 
in  a  courtly  way  with  Adams,  "  yes;  you  doubt 
less  find  the  opening  ceremonies  exceedingly 
impressive.  Most  newcomers  do.  However, 
it  will  wear  down,  sir;  the  feeling  will 
wear  down !  "  Hamilton  throws  off  this  last 

153 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

with  an  ineffable  air  of  experience  and  ele 
vation. 

"  Sir/'  returns  Aaron,  preserving  a  thin  shim 
mer  of  politeness,  "  sir,  by  these  ceremonies, 
through  which  we  have  romped  so  deeply  to 
your  gratification,  I  confess  I  have  been  quite 
as  much  bored  as  impressed.  There  is  some 
thing  cheap,  something  antic  and  senseless  to  it 
all — as  though  we  were  sylvan  apes !  What  are 
these  wondrous  ceremonies?  Why  then,  the 
President  '  addresses '  the  Senate,  the  Senate 
*  addresses '  the  President ;  neither  says  anything, 
neither  means  anything,  and  the  whole  exchange 
comes  to  be  no  more  than  just  an  empty  barter 
of  bad  English."  This  last,  in  view  of  the  fact 
that  Aaron  himself  is  the  architect  of  the  ad 
dress  of  the  Senate,  sounds  liberal,  and  not  at 
all  conceited.  He  goes  on:  "I  must  say,  sir, 
that  my  little  dip  into  government,  confined  as  it 
has  been  to  these  marvelous  ceremonies,  leaves 
me  with  a  poorer  opinion  of  my  country  than  I 
brought  here.  As  for  the  ceremonies  themselves, 
I  should  call  them  now  about  as  edifying  as  the 
banging  and  the  booming  of  a  brace  of  Chinese 
gongs." 

Washington's  brow  is  red,  his  eye  cold,  as  he 
bows  a  formal  leave  to  Aaron  when  he  departs 
154 


THE     STATESMAN 

with  the  others.  Plainly,  the  views  of  the  young 
successor  to  the  rusty  Schuyler,  concerning  ad 
dresses  of  ceremony,  have  not  been  lost  upon 
him. 

"  I  think,"  mutters  Aaron,  icily  complacent — 
"  I  think  I  pricked  him." 


CHAPTER    XII 

IDLENESS   AND   BLACK   RESOLVES 

AARON  finds  a  Senate  existence  inexpres 
sibly  dull.  He  writes  his  Theodosia: 
"  There  is  nothing  to  do  here.  Every 
body  is  idle;  and,  so  far  as  I  see,  the  one 
occupation  of  a  senator  is  to  lie  sunning  him 
self  in  his  own  effulgence.  My  colleague,  Rufus 
King,  and  others  I  might  name,  succeed  in  that 
way  in  passing  their  days  very  pleasantly.  For 
myself,  not  having  their  sublime  imagination, 
and  being  perhaps  better  acquainted  with  my 
own  measure,  I  find  this  sitting  in  the  sunshine 
of  self  a  failure." 

Mindful  of  his  issue,  Aaron  offers  a  resolution 
throwing  open  the  Senate  doors.  The  Senate, 
whose  notion  of  greatness  is  a  notion  of  exclu 
sion,  votes  it  down.  Aaron  warns  his  puffball 
brothers  of  the  toga : 

"  Be  assured,"  says  he,  "  you  fool  no  one  by 
such  trumpery  tricks  as  this  key-turning.  You 


BLACK    RESOLVES 

succeed  only  in  bringing  republican  institutions 
into  contempt,  and  getting  yourselves  laughed  at 
where  you  are  not  condemned." 

Aaron  reintroduces  his  open-door  resolution; 
in  the  end  he  passes  it.  Galleries  are  thrown  up 
in  the  chamber,  and  all  who  will  may  watch  the 
Senate  as  it  proceeds  upon  the  transaction  of 
its  dignified  destinies.  At  this  but  few  come; 
whereupon  the  Senate  feels  abashed.  It  is  not, 
it  discovers,  the  thrilling  spectacle  its  puffball 
fancy  painted. 

Carked  of  the  weariness  of  doing  nothing, 
Aaron  bursts  forth  with  an  idea.  He  will  write 
a  history  of  the  War  of  the  Revolution.  He 
begins  digging  among  the  papers  of  the  State 
department,  tossing  the  archives  of  his  country 
hither  and  yon,  on  the  tireless  horns  of  his  in 
dustry. 

Hamilton  creeps  with  the  alarming  tale  to 
Washington.  "  He  speaks  of  writing  a  history, 
sir,"  says  sycophant  Hamilton.  "  That  is 
mere  subterfuge;  he  intends  a  libel  against 
yourself." 

Washington  brings  his  thin  lips  together  in 
a  tight,  straight  line,  while  his  heavy  forehead 
gathers  to  a  half  frown. 

"  How,  sir,"  he  asks,  after  a  pause,  "  could 
157 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

he  libel  me?  I  am  conscious  of  nothing  in  my 
past  which  would  warrant  such  a  thought." 

u  There  is  not,  sir,  a  fact  of  your  career  that 
would  not,  if  mentioned,  make  for  your  glory." 
Hamilton  deprecates  with  delicately  outspread 
hands  as  he  says  this.  "  That,  however,  would 
not  deter  this  Burr,  who  is  Satanic  in  his  men 
dacities.  Believe  me,  sir,  he  has  the  power  of 
making  fiction  look  more  like  truth  than  truth 
itself.  And  there  is  another  thought:  Suppose 
he  were  to  assail  you  with  some  trumped-up 
story.  You  could  not  come  down  from  your 
high  place  to  contradict  him;  it  would  detract 
from  you,  stain  your  dignity.  That  is  the  pen 
alty,  sir  " — this  with  a  sigh  of  unspeakable  adu 
lation — "  which  men  of  your  utter  eminence 
have  to  pay.  Such  as  you  are  at  the  mercy  of 
every  gutter-bred  vilifier;  whatever  his  charges, 
you  cannot  open  your  mouth." 

Aaron  hears  nothing  of  this.  His  first  guess 
of  it  comes  when  he  is  told  by  a  State  depart 
ment  underling  that  he  will  no  longer  be  allowed 
to  inspect  and  make  copies  of  the  papers. 

Without  wasting  words  on  the  underling, 
Aaron  walks  in  upon  Jefferson.  That  secretary 
receives  him  courteously,  but  not  warmly. 

"  How,  sir,"  begins  Aaron,  a  wicked  light 


BLACK    RESOLVES 

in  his  eye — "  how,  sir,  am  I  to  understand  this? 
Is  it  by  your  order  that  the  files  of  the  depart 
ment  are  withheld  from  me?  " 

"  It  is  not,  sir,"  returns  Jefferson,  coldly 
frank.  "  My  own  theories  of  a  citizen  and  his 
rights  would  open  every  public  paper  to  the  in 
spection  of  the  meanest.  I  do  not  understand 
government  by  secrecy." 

"  By  whose  order  then  am  I  refused?  " 

"  By  order  of  the  President." 

Aaron  ruminates  the  situation.  At  last  he 
speaks  out:  "  I  must  yield,"  he  says,  "  while  real 
izing  the  injustice  done  me.  Still  I  shall  not  soon 
forget  the  incident.  You  say  it  is  the  order  of 
Washington;  you  are  mistaken,  sir.  It  is  not 
the  lion  but  his  jackal  that  has  put  this  affront 
upon  me." 

Idle  in  the  Senate,  precluded  from  collecting 
the  materials  for  that  projected  history,  Aaron 
discovers  little  to  employ  himself  about  in  Phila 
delphia.  Not  that  he  falls  into  stagnation;  for 
his  business  of  the  law,  and  his  speculations  in 
land  take  him  often  to  New  York.  His  trusted 
Theodosia  is  his  manager  of  business,  and  when 
he  cannot  go  to  New  York  she  meets  him  half 
way  in  Trenton. 

Aside  from  his  concerns  of  law  and  land, 
159 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

Aaron  devotes  a  deal  of  thought  to  little  Theo- 
dosia — child  of  his  soul's  heart !  In  his  pride, 
he  hurries  her  into  Horace  and  Terence  at  the 
age  of  ten;  and  later  sends  her  voyaging  to 
Troy  with  Homer,  and  all  over  the  world  with 
Herodotus.  Nor  is  this  the  whole  tale  of  baby 
Theodosia's  evil  fortunes.  She  is  taught 
French,  music,  drawing,  dancing,  and  whatever 
else  may  convey  a  glory  and  a  gloss.  Love-led, 
pride-blinded,  Aaron  takes  up  the  role  of  father 
in  its  most  awful  form. 

"  Believe  me,  my  dear,"  he  says  to  Theodosia 
mere,  who  pleads  for  an  educational  leniency — 
"  believe  me,  I  shall  prove  in  our  darling  that 
women  have  souls,  a  psychic  fact  which  high 
ones  have  been  heard  to  dispute." 

At  the  age  of  twelve,  the  book-burdened  lit 
tle  Theodosia  translates  the  Constitution  into 
French  at  Aaron's  request;  at  sixteen,  she  finds 
celebration  as  the  most  learned  of  her  sex  since 
Voltaire's  Emilie.  Theodosia  mere,  however, 
is  spared  the  spectable  of  her  baby's  harrowing 
erudition,  for  in  the  middle  of  Aaron's  term  as 
senator  death  carries  her  away. 

With  that  loss,  Aaron  is  more  and  more 
drawn  to  baby  Theodosia;  she  becomes  his 
earth,  his  heaven,  and  stands  for  all  his  tender- 
160 


BLACK    RESOLVES 

est  hopes.  While  she  is  yet  a  child,  he  makes 
her  the  head  of  Richmond  Hill,  and  gives  a  din 
ner  of  state,  over  which  she  presides,  to  the 
limping  Talleyrand,  and  Volney  with  his 
"  Ruins  of  Empire."  For  all  her  precocities, 
and  that  hothouse  bookishness  which  should 
have  spoiled  her,  baby  Theodosia  blossoms 
roundly  into  womanhood — beautiful  as  bril 
liant. 

While  Aaron  finds  little  or  nothing  of  public 
sort  to  engage  him,  he  does  not  permit  this  idle 
ness  to  shake  his  hold  of  politics.  Angry  with 
the  royalties  of  Washington,  he  drifts  into  near 
if  not  intimate  relations  with  the  arch-demo 
crat  Jefferson.  Aaron  and  the  loose-framed 
secretary  are  often  together;  and  yet  never  on 
terms  of  confidence  or  even  liking.  They  are 
in  each  other's  society  because  they  go  politically 
the  same  road.  Fellow  wayfarers  of  politics, 
with  "  Democracy  "  their  common  destination, 
they  are  fairly  compelled  into  one  another's  com 
pany.  But  there  grows  up  no  spirit  of  comrade 
ship,  no  mutual  sentiment  of  admiration  and 
trust. 

Aaron's  feelings  toward  Jefferson,  and  the 
sources  of  them,  find  setting  forth  in  a  conver 
sation  which  he  holds  with  his  new  disciple,  Sen- 
is  161 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

ator  Andrew  Jackson,  who  has  come  on  from  his 
wilderness  home  by  the  Cumberland. 

"  It  is  not  that  I  like  Jefferson,"  he  explains, 
"  but  that  I  dislike  Washington  and  Hamilton. 
Jefferson  will  make  a  splendid  tool  to  destroy 
the  others  with;  I  mean  to  use  him  as  the  in 
strument  of  my  vengeance." 

Jefferson,  when  speaking  of  Aaron  to  the 
wooden  Adams,  is  neither  so  full  nor  so  frank. 
The  Bay  State  publicist  has  again  made  men 
tion  of  that  impressive  ancestry  which  he  thinks 
is  Aaron's  best  claim  to  public  as  well  as  private 
consideration. 

"  You  may  see  evidence  of  his  pure  blood," 
concludes  the  wooden  one,  "  in  his  perfect,  nay, 
matchless  politeness." 

"  He  is  matchlessly  polite,  as  you  say,"  as- 
l  sents  Jefferson;  "and  yet  I  cannot  fight  down 
*  the  fear  that  his  politeness  has  lies  in  it." 

The  days  drift  by,  and  Minister  Gouverneur 
Morris  is  recalled  from  Paris.  Washington 
makes  it  known  to  the  Senate  that  he  will  adopt 
any  name  it  suggests  for  the  vacancy.  The 
Senate  decides  upon  Aaron;  a  committee  goes 
with  that  honorable  suggestion  to  the  Pres 
ident. 

Washington  hears  the  committee  with  cloudy 
162 


BLACK    RESOLVES 

surprise.  He  is  silent  for  a  moment;  then  he 
says: 

"  Gentlemen,  your  proposal  of  Senator  Burr 
has  taken  me  unawares.  I  must  crave  space  for 
consideration;  oblige  me  by  returning  in  an 
hour." 

The  senators  who  constitute  the  committee 
retire,  and  Washington  seeks  his  jackal  Ham 
ilton. 

"  Appoint  Colonel  Burr  to  France !  "  exclaims 
Hamilton.  "  Sir,  it  would  shock  the  best  sen 
timent  of  the  country!  The  man  is  an  atheist, 
as  immoral  as  irreligious.  If  you  will  permit 
me  to  say  so,  sir,  I  should  give  the  Senate  a 
point-blank  refusal." 

"  But  my  promise !  "  says  Washington. 

"  Sir,  I  should  break  a  dozen  such  promises, 
before  I  consented  to  sacrifice  the  public  name, 
by  sending  Colonel  Burr  to  France.  However, 
that  is  not  required.  You  told  the  Senate  that 
you  would  adopt  its  suggestion;  you  have  now 
only  to  ask  it  to  make  a  second  suggestion." 

:<  The  thought  is  of  value,"  responds  Wash 
ington,  clearing.  "  I  am  free  to  say,  I  should 
not  relish  turning  my  back  on  my  word." 

The  committee  returns,  and  is  requested  to 
give  the  Senate  the  "  President's  compliments," 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

and  say  that  he  will  be  pleased  should  that  hon 
orable  body  submit  another  name.  Washington 
is  studious  to  avoid  any  least  of  comment  on  the 
nomination  of  Aaron. 

The  committee  is  presently  in  Washington's 
presence  for  the  third  time,  with  the  news  that 
the  Senate  has  no  name  other  than  Aaron's 
for  the  French  mission. 

"  Then,  gentlemen,"  exclaims  Washington, 
"his  hot  temper  getting  the  reins,  "  please  report 
to  the  Senate  that  I  refuse.  I  shall  send  no  one 
to  France  in  whom  I  have  not  confidence ;  and  I 
do  not  trust  Senator  Burr." 

"What  blockheads!"  comments  Aaron, 
when  he  hears.  "  They  will  one  day  wish  they 
had  gotten  rid  of  me,  though  at  the  price  of 
forty  missions." 

The  wooden  Adams  is  elected  President  to 
succeed  Washington.  Aaron's  colleague,  Rufus 
King,  offers  a  resolution  of  compliment  and 
thanks  to  the  retiring  one,  extolling  his  presi 
dential  honesty  and  patriotic  breadth.  A  cold 
hush  falls  upon  the  Senate,  when  Aaron  takes 
the  floor  on  the  resolution. 

Aaron's  remarks  are  curt,  and  to  the  barbed 
point.  He  cannot,  he  says,  bring  himself  to 
regard  Washington's  rule  as  either  patriotic  or 
164 


BLACK    RESOLVES 

broad.  That  President  throughout  has  been 
subservient  to  England,  who  was  our  tyrant,  is 
our  foe.  Equally  he  has  been  inimical  to 
France,  who  was  our  ally,  is  our  friend.  More ; 
he  has  subverted  the  republic  and  made  of  it  a 
monarchy  with  himself  as  king,  wanting  only 
in  those  unimportant  embellishments  of  scepter, 
throne,  and  crown.  He,  Aaron,  seeking  to  pro 
test  against  these  almost  treasons,  shall  vote 
against  the  resolution. 

The  Senate  sits  aghast.  Aaron's  respectable 
colleague,  Rufus  King,  cannot  believe  his  Tory 
ears.  At  last  he  totters  to  his  shocked  feet. 

"  I  am  amazed  at  the  action  of  my  col 
league !"  he  exclaims.  "I " 

Before  he  can  go  further,  Aaron  is  up  with 
an  interruption.  u  It  is  my  duty,"  says  Aaron, 
"  to  warn  the  senior  senator  from  New  York 
that  he  must  not  permit  his  amazement  at  my 
action  to  get  beyond  his  control.  I  do  not  like 
to  consider  the  probable  consequences,  should 
that  amazement  become  a  tax  upon  my  patience ; 
and  even  he,  I  think,  will  concede  the  impro 
priety,  to  give  it  no  sterner  word,  of  allowing 
it  any  manifestation  personally  offensive  to  my 
self." 

As  Aaron  delivers  this  warning,  so  danger- 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

ous  is  the  impression  he  throws  off,  that  it  first 
whitens  and  then  locks  the  condemnatory  lips 
of  colleague  King.  That  statesman,  rocking  un 
easily  on  his  feet,  waits  a  moment  after  Aaron 
is  done,  and  then  takes  his  seat,  swallowing  at 
a  gulp  whatever  remains  unsaid  of  his  intended 
eloquence.  The  roll  is  called;  Aaron  votes 
against  that  resolution  of  confidence  and  thanks, 
carrying  a  baker's  dozen  of  the  Senate  with  him, 
among  them  the  lean,  horse-faced  Andrew  Jack 
son  from  the  Cumberland. 

Washington  bows  his  adieus  to  the  people, 
and  retires  to  Mount  Vernon.  Adams  the 
wooden  becomes  President,  while  Jefferson  the 
angular  wields  the  Senate  gavel  as  Vice-Presi- 
dent.  Hamilton  is  more  potent  than  ever;  for 
Washington  at  Mount  Vernon  continues  the 
strongest  force  in  government,  and  Hamil 
ton  controls  that  force.  Adams  is  President 
in  nothing  save  name;  Hamilton — fawning 
upon  Washington,  bullying  Adams  and  playing 
upon  that  wooden  one's  fear  of  not  succeeding 
himself — is  the  actual  chief  magistrate. 

As  Aaron's  term  nears  its  end,  he  decides  that 

he  will  not  accept  reelection.     His  hatred  of 

Hamilton  has  set  iron-hand,  and  he  is  resolved 

for  that  scheming  one's  destruction.     His  plans 

166 


BLACK    RESOLVES 

are  fashioned;  their  execution,  however,  is  only 
possible  in  New  York.  Therefore,  he  will  quit 
the  Senate,  quit  the  capital. 

"  My  plans  mean  the  going  of  Adams,  as  well 
as  the  going  of  Hamilton,"  he  says  to  Senator 
Jackson  from  the  Cumberland,  when  laying  bare 
his  purposes.  "  I  do  not  leave  public  life  for 
good.  I  shall  return ;  and  on  that  day  Jefferson 
will  supplant  Adams,  and  I  shall  take  the  place 
of  Jefferson." 

"  And  Hamilton?"  asks  the  Cumberland 
one. 

"  Hamilton  the  defeated  shall  be  driven  into 
the  wilderness  of  retirement.  Once  there,  the 
serpents  of  his  own  jealousies  and  envies  may 
be  trusted  to  sting  him  to  death." 


CHAPTER   XIII 

THE   GRINDING   OF   AARON'S   MILL 

AARON  tells  his  friends  that  he  will  not 
go  back  to  the  Senate.  He  puts  this 
resolution  to  retire  on  the  double 
grounds  of  young  Theodosia's  loneliness  and  a 
consequent  paternal  necessity  of  his  presence 
at  Richmond  Hill,  and  the  tangled  condition 
of  his  business;  which  last  after  the  death  of 
Theodosia  mere  falls  into  a  snarl.  Never,  by 
the  lifting  of  an  eyelash  or  the  twitching  of  a 
lip,  does  he  betray  any  corner  of  his  polit 
ical  designs,  or  of  his  determination  to  destroy 
Hamilton.  His  heart  is  a  furnace  of  white-hot 
throbbing  hate  against  that  gentleman  of 
diagonal  morals  and  biased  veracities;  but  no 
sign  of  the  fires  within  is  visible  on  the  arctic 
exterior. 

Polite,   on  ceaseless  guard,  Aaron  even  be 
comes    affable    when    Hamilton    is   mentioned. 
He  goes  so  far  with  his  strategy,  indeed,  as  to 
168 


GRINDING    OF    AARON'S    MILL 

imitate  concern  in  connection  with  the  political 
destinies  of 'the  rusty  Schuyler,  now  exceeding 
ly  on  the  shelf.  Aaron  has  the  rusty  Schuyler 
down  from  his  shelved  retirement,  brushes  the 
political  dust  from  his  cloak,  and  declares  that, 
in  a  spirit  of  generosity  proper  in  a  young  com 
munity  toward  an  old,  tried,  even  if  rusty  serv 
ant,  the  State  ought  to  send  the  rusty  one  to  fill 
the  Senate  seat  which  he,  Aaron,  is  giving  up. 
To  such  a  degree  does  he  work  upon  the  gener 
ous  sensibilities  of  mankind,  that  the  rusty 
Schuyler  is  at  once  unanimously  chosen  to  reas- 
sume  those  honors  which  he,  Aaron,  stripped 
from  him  six  years  before. 

Hamilton  falls  into  a  fog;  he  cannot  under 
stand  the  Aaronian  liberality.  Aaron's  astonish 
ing  proposal,  to  return  the  rusty  one  to  the  Sen 
ate,  smells  dangerously  like  a  Greek  and  a  gift. 
In  the  end,  however,  Hamilton's  enormous  van 
ity  gets  the  floor,  and  he  decides  that  Aaron — 
courage  broken — is  but  cringing  to  win  the 
Hamilton  friendship. 

"  That  is  it,"  he  explains  to  President  Adams. 
1  The  fellow  has  lost  heart.  This  is  his  way  of 
surrendering,  and  begging  for  peace." 

There  are  others  as  hopelessly  lost  in  mists 
of  amazement  over  Aaron's  benevolence  as  is 
169 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

Hamilton;  one  is  Aaron's  closest  friend  Van 
Ness. 

u  Schuyler  for  the  Senate !"  he  exclaims. 
"  What  does  that  mean?  " 

"  It  means,"  whispers  Aaron,  with  Machia 
vellian  slyness,  "  that  I  want  to  get  rid  of  the 
old  dotard  here.  I  am  only  clearing  the  ground, 
sir!" 

"And  for  what?  " 

:t  The  destruction  of  Hamilton." 

As  Aaron  speaks  the  hated  name  it  is  like  the 
opening  of  a  furnace  door.  One  is  given  a  flash 
of  the  flaming  tumult  within.  Then  the  door 
closes;  all  is  again  dark,  passionless,  inscrutable. 

Aaron  runs  his  experienced  eye  along  the  local 
array.  The  Hamilton  forces  are  in  the  ascend 
ant.  Jay  is  governor;  having  beaten  North- 
of-Ireland  Clinton,  who  was  unable  to  explain 
how  he  came  to  sell  more  than  three  millions  of 
the  public's  acres  to  McComb  for  eightpence. 

And  yet,  for  all  that  supremacy  of  the  Ham 
ilton  influence — working  out  its  fortunes  with 
the  cogent  name  of  Washington — Aaron's 
practiced  vision  detects  here  and  there  the 
seams  of  weakness.  Old  Clinton  is  as  angry 
as  any  sore-head  bear  over  that  gubernatorial 
beating,  which  he  lays  to  Hamilton.  The  clan- 
170 


GRINDING     OF    AARON'S    MILL 

Livingston  is  sulking  among  its  hills  because 
its  chief,  the  mighty  chancellor,  was  kept  out 
of  the  President's  cabinet  by  the  secret  word  of 
Hamilton — whose  policies  are  ever  jealous  and 
double-jointed.  Aaron,  wise  in  such  coils,  sees 
all  about  him  the  raw  materials  wherefrom  may 
be  constructed  a  resistless  opposition  to  the 
Party-of-things-as-they-are — which  is  the  party 
of  Hamilton. 

One  thing  irks  the  pride  of  Aaron- — a  pride 
ever  impatient  and  ready  for  mutiny.  In  deal 
ing  with  the  Livingstons  and  the  Clintons, 
these  gentry  —  readily  eager  indeed  to  take 
their  revenges  with  the  help  of  Aaron — never 
omit  a  patrician  attitude  of  overbearing  im 
portance.  They  make  a  merit  of  accepting 
Aaron's  aid,  and  proceed  on  the  assumption  that 
he  gains  honor  by  serving  them.  Aaron  makes 
up  his  mind  to  remedy  this. 

"  I  must  have  a  following,"  says  he.  "  I  will 
call  about  me  every  free  lance  in  the  political 
hills.  There  shall  be  a  new  clan  born,  of  which 
I  must  be  the  Rob  Roy.  Like  another  Mc 
Gregor,  I  with  my  followers  shall  take  up  posi 
tion  between  the  Campbell  and  the  Montrose — 
the  Clintons  and  the  Livingstons.  By  threaten 
ing  one  with  the  other,  I  can  then  control  both. 
171 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

Given  a  force  of  my  own,  the  high-stomached 
Livingstons  and  the  obstinate  Clintons  must 
obey  me.  They  shall  yet  move  forward  or  fall 
back,  march  and  countermarch  by  my  word." 

When  Aaron  sets  up  as  a  Rob  Roy  of  politics, 
he  is  not  compelled  to  endless  labors  in  construct 
ing  a  following.  The  thing  he  looks  for  lies 
ready  to  his  hand.  In  the  long-room  of  Brom 
Martling's  tavern,  at  Spruce  and  Nassau,  meets 
the  "  Sons  of  Tammany  or  the  Columbian  Or 
der."  The  name  is  overlong,  and  hard  to  pro 
nounce  unless  sober;  wherefore  the  "  Sons  of 
Tammany  or  the  Columbian  Order,"  as  they  sit 
swigging  Brom  Martling's  cider,  call  them 
selves  the  "  Bucktails." 

The  aristocracy  of  the  Revolution — being  the 
officers — created  unto  themselves  the  Cincinnati. 
Whereupon,  the  yeomanry  of  the  Revolution — 
being  the  privates — as  a  counterpoise  to  the  per 
fumed,  not  to  say  gilded  Cincinnati,  brought  the 
Sons  of  Tammany  or  the  Columbian  Order, 
otherwise  the  Bucktails,  into  being. 

The  Bucktails,  good  cider-loving  souls,  are 
solely  a  charitable-social  organization,  and  have 
no  dreams  of  politics.  Aaron  becomes  one  of 
them — quaffing  and  exalting  the  Martling  cider. 
He  takes  them  up  into  the  mountaintop  of  the 
172 


GRINDING    OF    AARON'S    MILL 

possible,  and  shows  them  the  kingdoms  of  the 
political  world  and  the  glories  thereof.  Also, 
he  points  out  that  Hamilton,  the  head  of  the 
hated  Cincinnati,  is  turning  that  organization 
of  perfume  and  purple  into  a  power.  The 
Bucktails  hear,  see,  believe,  and  resolve  under 
the  chiefship  of  Aaron  to  fight  their  loathed 
rivals,  the  Cincinnati,  in  every  ensuing  battle  of 
the  ballots  to  the  end  of  time. 

The  word  that  Aaron  has  brought  the  Buck- 
tails  to  political  heel  is  not  long  in  making  the 
rounds.  It  is  worth  registering  that  so  soon 
as  the  Clintons  and  the  Livingstons  learn  the 
political  determinations  of  this  formidable  body 
of  cider  drinkers — with  Aaron  at  its  head — 
they  conduct  themselves  toward  our  young  ex- 
senator  with  profoundest  respect.  They  elim 
inate  the  overbearing  element  in  their  attitudes, 
and,  when  they  would  confer  with  him,  they  go 
to  him  not  he  to  them.  Where  before  they 
declared  their  intentions,  they  now  ask  his  con 
sent.  It  falls  out  as  Aaron  forethreatened.  Our 
Rob  Roy  at  the  head  of  his  bold  Bucktails  is 
sought  for  and  deferred  to  by  both  the  Clin 
tons  and  the  Livingstons — the  Campbell  and  the 
Montrose. 

Some   philosopher   has   said   that   there   are 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

three  requisites  to  successful  war:  the  first  gold, 
the  second  gold,  the  third  gold.  That  deep  one 
might  have  said  the  same  of  politics.  Now, 
when  he  dominates  his  Tammany  Bucktails — 
who  obey  him  with  shut  eyes — and  has  brought 
the  perverse  Clintons  and  the  stiff-necked  Liv 
ingstons  beneath  his  thumb,  Aaron  considers  the 
question  of  the  sinews  of  war.  Politics,  as  a 
science,  has  already  so  far  progressed  that  prin 
ciple  is  no  longer  sufficient  to  insure  success.  If 
he  would  have  a  best  ballot-box  expression,  he 
must  pave  the  way  with  money.  The  reasons 
thereof  cry  out  at  him  from  all  quarters.  There 
is  such  a  commodity  as  a  campaign.  No  one 
is  patriotic  enough  to  blow  a  campaign  fife  or 
beat  a  campaign  drum  for  fun.  Torches  are 
not  a  gift,  but  a  purchase;  neither  does  Mart- 
ling's  cider  flow  without  a  price.  Aaron,  con 
sidering  this  ticklish  puzzle  of  money,  sees  that 
his  plans  as  well  as  his  party  require  a  bank. 

There  are  two  banks  in  the  city,  only  two; 
these  are  held  in  the  hollow  of  the  Hamilton 
hand.  Under  the  Hamilton  pressure  these 
banks  act  coercively.  They  make  loans  or  re 
fuse  them,  as  the  applicant  is  or  is  not  amenable 
to  the  Hamilton  touch.  Obedience  to  Hamil 
ton,  added  to  security  even  somewhat  mildewed, 
174 


GRINDING    OF    AARON'S    MILL 

will  obtain  a  loan ;  while  rebellion  against  Ham 
ilton,  plus  the  best  security  beneath  the  commer 
cial  sun,  cannot  coax  a  dollar  from  their  strong 
boxes. 

Aaron  resolves  to  bring  about  a  break  in  these 
iron-bound  conditions.  The  best  forces  of  the 
town  are  thereby  held  in  chains  to  Hamilton. 
Aaron  must  free  these  forces  before  they  can 
leave  Hamilton  and  follow  him.  How  is  this 
freedom  to  be  worked  out?  Construct  another 
bank  ?  It  presents  as  many  difficulties  as  making 
a  new  north  star.  Hamilton  watches  the  bank 
situation  with  the  hundred  eyes  of  Argus ;  every 
effort  to  obtain  a  charter  is  knocked  on  the  head. 

Those  armed  experiences,  which  overtook 
Aaron  as  he  went  from  Quebec  to  Monmouth, 
and  from  Monmouth  to  the  Westchester  lines, 
left  him  full  of  war  knowledge.  He  is  deep 
in  the  art  of  surprise,  ambuscade,  flank  move 
ment,  night  attack;  and  now  he  brings  this 
knowledge  to  bear.  To  capture  a  bank  charter 
is  to  capture  the  Hamilton  Gibraltar,  and,  while 
all  but  impossible  of  accomplishment,  it  will 
prove  conclusive  if  accomplished.  Aaron  wrin 
kles  his^brows  and  racks  his  wits  for  a  way. 

Gradually,  like  the  power-imp  emerging  from 
Aladdin's  bottle,  a  scheme  begins  to  take  shape 
175 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

before  his  mental  eye.  Yellow  fever  has  been 
reaping  a  shrouded  harvest  in  the  town.  The 
local  wiseacres — as  usual — lay  it  to  the  water. 
Everybody  reveres  science;  and,  while  every 
body  knows  full  well  that  science  is  nothing  bet 
ter  than  just  the  accepted  ignorance  of  to-day, 
still  everybody  is  none  the  less  on  his  knees  to  it, 
and  to  the  wiseacres,  who  are  its  high  priests. 
Science  and  the  wiseacres  lay  yellow  fever  to  the 
water ;  the  kneeling  town,  taking  the  word  from 
them,  does  the  same.  The  local  water  is  found 
guilty;  the  popular  cry  goes  up  for  a  purer  ele 
ment.  The  town  demands  water  that  is  inno 
cent  of  homicidal  qualities. 

It  is  at  this  crisis  that  Aaron  gravely  steps 
forward.  He  talks  of  Yellow  Jack  and  unfurls 
a  proposal.  He  will  form  a  water  company;  it 
shall  be  called  "  The  Manhattan  Company." 

With  "  No  more  yellow  fever!  "  for  a  war- 
cry,  Aaron  lays  siege  to  Albany.  What  he 
wants  is  incorporation,  what  he  seeks  is  a  char 
ter.  With  the  fear  of  yellow  fever  curling  about 
their  heart  roots,  the  Albany  authorities — being 
the  Hamilton  Governor  Jay  and  a  Hamilton 
Legislature — comply  with  his  demands.  The 
Manhattan  Company  is  incorporated,  capital 
two  millions. 


GRINDING    OF    AARON'S    MILL 

Aaron  goes  home  with  the  charter.  Carry 
ing  out  the  charter — which  authorizes  a  water 
company — he  originates  a  modest  well  near  the 
City  Hall.  It  is  not  a  big  well,  and  might  with 
its  limpid  output  no  more  than  serve  the  thirst 
of  what  folk  belong  with  any  city  block. 

Well  complete  and  in  operation,  the  Man 
hattan  Company  abruptly  opens  a  bank,  vastly 
bigger  than  the  well.  Also,  the  bank  possesses 
a  feature  in  this;  it  is  anti-Hamilton. 

Instantly,  every  man  or  institution  that  nurses 
a  dislike  for  Hamilton  takes  his  or  its  money 
to  the  Manhattan  Bank.  It  is  no  more  than 
a  matter  of  days  when  the  new  bank,  in  the  vol 
ume  of  its  business  and  the  extent  of  its  depos 
its,  overtops  those  banks  which  fly  the  Hamil 
ton  flag.  And  Aaron,  the  indefatigable,  is  in 
control.  At  the  new  Manhattan  Bank,  he  turns 
on  or  shuts  off  the  flow  of  credit,  as  Brom  Mart- 
ling — spigot-busy  in  the  thirsty  destinies  of  the 
Bucktails — turns  on  or  shuts  off  the  flow  of  his 
own  cider. 

After  the  first  throe  of  Hamiltonian  horror, 
Governor  Jay  sends  his  attorney  general.  This 
dignitary  demands  of  Aaron  by  what  author 
ity  his  Manhattan  Company  thus  hurls  itself 
upon  the  flanks  of  a  surprised  world,  in  the  wolf- 
13  177 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

ish  guise  of  a  bank?  The  company  was  to  fur 
nish  the  world  with  water;  it  is  now  furnishing 
it  with  money,  leaving  it  to  fill  its  empty  water 
buckets  at  the  old-time  spouts.  Also,  it  has 
turned  its  incorporated  back  on  yellow  fever,  as 
upon  a  question  in  which  interest  is  dead. 

The  Jay  attorney  general  puts  these  queries 
to  Aaron,  who  replies  with  the  charter.  He 
points  with  his  slim  forefinger;  and  the  Jay  at 
torney  general — first  polishing  his  amazed  spec 
tacles — reads  the  following  clause: 

"  The  surplus  capital  may  be  employed  in 
any  way  not  inconsistent  with  the  laws  and  Con 
stitution  of  the  United  States  or  of  the  State 
of  New  York." 

The  Jay  attorney  general  gulps  a  little;  his 
learned  Adam's  apple  goes  up  and  down.  When 
the  aforesaid  clause  is  lodged  safe  inside  his 
mental  stomach,  Aaron  assists  digestion  with 
an  explanation.  It  is  short,  but  lucidly  suffi 
cient. 

"  The  Manhattan  Company,  having  com 
pleted  its  well  and  acting  within  the  authority 
granted  by  the  clause  just  read,  has  opened  with 
its  surplus  capital  the  Manhattan  Bank." 

The  Jay  attorney  general  stares  blinkingly, 
like  an  owl  at  noon. 

178 


GRINDING     OF    AARON'S    MILL 

"  And  you  had  the  bank  in  mind  from  the 
first!  "  he  cries. 

"  Possibly,"  says  Aaron. 

"  Let  me  tell  you  one  thing,  Colonel  Burr," 
and  the  Jay  attorney  general  cracks  and  snaps 
his  teeth  in  quite  an  owlish  way;  "  if  the  authori 
ties  at  Albany  had  guessed  your  purpose,  you 
would  never  have  received  your  charter.  No, 
sir;  your  prayer  for  incorporation  would  have 
been  refused." 

"  Possibly!  "  says  Aaron. 

All  these  divers  and  sundry  preparational 
matters,  the  subjection  of  the  Clintons  and  the 
Livingstons,  the  political  alignment  of  the  Buck- 
tails  swigging  their  cider  at  Martlings,  and  the 
launching  of  the  Manhattan  Bank  to  the  yellow 
end  that  a  supply  of  gold  be  assured,  have  in 
their  accomplishment  taken  time.  It  is  long 
since  Aaron  looked  in  at  the  Federal  capitol, 
where  the  Hamilton-guided  Adams  is  perform 
ing  as  President,  with  all  those  purple  royalties 
which  surrounded  Washington,  and  Jefferson  is 
abolishing  ruffles,  donning  pantaloons,  introduc 
ing  shoelaces,  cutting  off  his  cue,  and  playing  the 
democrat  Vice-President  at  the  other  end  of 
government.  Aaron  resolves  upon  a  visit  to 
these  opposite  ones.  Jefferson  must  be  his  can- 
179 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

didate ;  Adams  will  be  the  candidate  of  the  foe. 
He  himself  is  to  manage  for  the  one,  while 
Hamilton  will  lead  for  the  other.  Such  the 
situation,  he  holds  it  the  part  of  a  cautious 
sagacity  to  glance  in  at  these  worthies,  pulling 
against  one  another,  and  discover  to  what  extent 
and  in  what  manner  their  straining  and  tugging 
may  be  used  to  make  or  mar  the  nation's  future. 
Hamilton  is  to  be  destroyed.  To  annihilate  him 
a  battle  must  be  fought;  and  Aaron,  preparing 
for  that  strife,  is  eager  to  discover  aught  in  the 
present  conduct  or  standing  of  either  Adams 
or  Jefferson  which  can  be  molded  into  bullets  to 
bring  down  the  enemy. 

Aaron's  friend  Van  Ness  goes  with  him,  shar 
ing  his  seat  in  the  coach.  Some  worth-while 
words  ensue.  They  begin  by  talking  of  Hamil 
ton;  as  talk  proceeds,  Aaron  gives  a  surprising 
hint  of  the  dark  but  unsuspected  bitterness  of  his 
feeling — a  feeling  which  goes  beyond  politics, 
as  the  acridities  of  that  savage  science  are  under 
stood  and  recognized. 

Van  Ness  is  wonder-smitten. 

"  Your  enmity  to  Hamilton,"  he  says  tenta 
tively,  "  strikes  deeper  then  than  mere  politics." 

"  Sir,"  returns  Aaron  slowly,  the  old-time 
black,  ophidian  sparkle  flashing  up  in  his  eyes, 
180 


GRINDING     OF    AARON'S    MILL 

"  the  deepest  sentiment  of  my  nature  is  my 
hatred  for  that  man.  Day  by  day  it  grows 
upon  me.  Also,  it  is  he  who  furnishes  the  seed 
and  the  roots  of  it.  Everywhere  he  vilifies  me. 
I  hear  it  east,  north,  west,  south.  I  am  his 
mania — his  'phobia.  In  his  slanderous  mouth 
I  am  *  liar,'  '  thief,'  and  *  scoundrel  rogue.'  In 
such  connection  I  would  have  you  to  remember 
that  I,  on  my  side,  give  him,  and  have  given 
him,  the  description  of  a  gentleman." 

"  To  be  frank,  sir,"  returns  Van  Ness 
thoughtfully,  "  I  know  every  word  you  speak 
to  be  true,  and  have  often  wondered  that  you 
did  not  parade  our  epithetical  friend  at  ten 
paces,  and  refute  his  mendacities  with  convinc 
ing  lead." 

Aaron's  look  is  hard  as  granite.  There  is  a 
moment  of  silence.  "  Kill  him !  "  he  says  at 
last,  as  though  repeating  a  remark  of  his  com 
panion;  "  kill  him!  Yes;  that,  too,  must  come! 
But  it  must  not  come  too  soon  for  my  perfect 
vengeance !  First  I  shall  uproot  him  politically ; 
every  hope  he  has  shall  die !  I  shall  thrust  him 
from  his  high  places!  When  he  lies  prone, 
broken,  powerless! — when  he  is  spat  upon  by 
those  in  whose  one-time  downcast,  servile  pres 
ence  he  strutted  lord  paramount ! — when  his  past 
181 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

is  scoffed  at,  his  future  swallowed  up ! — when 
his  word  is  laughed  at  and  his  fame  become  a 
farce ! — then,  when  every  fang  of  defeat  pierces 
and  poisons  him,  then  I  say  should  be  the  hour 
to  talk  of  killing !  That  hour  is  not  yet.  I  am 
a  revengeful  man,  Van  Ness — I  am  an  artist  of 
revenge !  Believing  as  I  do  that  with  the  going 
of  the  breath,  all  goes ! — that  for  the  Man  there 
is  no  hereafter  as  there  has  been  no  past! — I 
must  garner  my  vengeance  on  earth  or  for 
ever  lose  it.  So  I  take  pains  with  my  ven 
geance;  and  having,  as  I  tell  you,  a  genius 
for  it,  my  vengeful  pains  shall  find  their  dark 
and  full-blown  harvest.  Hamilton,  for  whom 
my  whole  heart  flows  away  in  hate ! — I  shall 
build  for  him  a  pyramid  of  misery  while  he 
lives;  and  I  shall  cap  that  pyramid  with  his 
death — his  grave !  I  can  see,  as  one  who  looks 
down  a  lane,  what  lies  before.  I  shall  take  from 
him  every  scrap  of  that  power  which  is  his  soul's 
food — strip  him  of  each  least  fragment  of  posi 
tion!  When  he  has  nothing  left  but  life,  I'll 
wrest  that  from  him.  Long  years  after  he  is 
gone  I'll  walk  this  earth;  and  I  shall  find  a  joy 
in  his  absence,  and  the  thought  that  by  my  hand 
and  my  will  he  was  made  to  go,  beyond  what 
friendship  of  man  or  the  favor  of  woman 
182 


GRINDING    OF    AARON'S    MILL 

could  bring  me.  Kill  him !  There  is  a  grist  in 
the  hopper  of  my  purposes,  friend,  and  the  mill 
stones  of  my  plans  are  grinding !  " 

Aaron  does  not  look  at  Van  Ness  as  he  thus 
brings  the  secrets  of  his  soul  to  the  light  of  day, 
but  wears  the  manner  of  one  preoccupied  and  in 
the  spell  of  self.  Van  Ness  shudders  as  he  lis 
tens;  and,  while  the  slow  words  follow  one  an 
other  in  hateful  swart  procession,  a  chill  creeps 
over  him,  as  from  the  evil  monstrous  nearness 
of  something  elemental,  abnormal,  fearsome.  A 
sweat  breaks  out  on  his  face.  Neither  his  wits 
nor  his  tongue  can  frame  remark  for  either 
good  or  ill.  The  brooding  Aaron  seems  not 
to  notice,  but  falls  into  a  black  muse. 


CHAPTER    XIV 

THE   TRIUMPH   OF   AARON 

IT  is  the  era  of  bad  feeling,  and  the  breasts 
of  men  are  reservoirs  of  poison.     Jeffer 
son   and   Adams,   while   known   admitted 
rivals,  deplore  these  wormwood  conditions  and 
strive  against  them.     It  is  as  though  they  strove 
against  the  tides;  party  lines  were  never  more 
fiercely  drawn.     Some  portrait  of  the  hour  may 
be  found  in  the  following: 

Adams  gives  a  dinner;  and,  because  he  can 
not  get  over  the  Jonathan  Edwards  emanation 
of  Aaron,  he  invites  him.  Also,  Van  Ness  being 
with  Aaron,  the  invitation  includes  Van  Ness. 
Hamilton  and  Jefferson  will  be  there;  since  it 
is  one  of  the  hypocritical  affectations  of  these 
good  people  to  keep  up  a  polite  appearance  of 
friendship,  by  way  of  example,  if  not  rebuke, 
to  warring  followers,  who  are  hopefully  fighting 
duels  and  shedding  blood  and  taking  life  in 
their  interests.  On  the  way  to  the  President's 
184 


THE    TRIUMPH    OF    AARON 

house  Van  Ness,  to  whom  Adams  is  new, 
queries  Aaron: 

"  What  sort  of  a  man  is  Adams?  " 

"  He  is  an  honest,  pragmatic,  hot-tempered 
thick-skull,"  says  Aaron — "  a  New  England 
John  Bull ! — a  masculine  Mrs.  Malaprop  whom 
Sheridan  would  love.  You  can  have  no  better 
description  of  him  than  was  given  me  but  yes 
terday  by  a  member  of  his  Cabinet.  '  Adams,' 
says  the  cabineteer,  '  is  a  man  who  whether 
sportful,  witty,  kind,  cold,  drunk,  sober,  angry, 
easy,  stiff,  jealous,  careless,  cautious,  confident, 
close  or  open,  is  so  always  in  the  wrong  place 
and  with  the  wrong  man !  ' 

"  Is  he  a  good  executive?  " 

"  Bad !  By  nature  he  is  no  more  in  touch 
with  the  spirit  of  a  democracy  than  with  the 
maritime  policies  of  the  Ptolemies.  His  pet 
picture  of  government  is  England,  with  the 
one  amendment  that  he  would  call  the  king  a 
president.  As  to  his  executive  labors:  why, 
then,  he  touches  only  to  disarrange,  talks 
only  to  disturb.  And  all  without  meaning 
to  do  so." 

The  dinner  is  neither  large  nor  formal. 
Aaron  sits  on  the  right  hand  of  Adams,  while 
Jefferson  has  Van  Ness  and  Hamilton  at  either 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

elbow.     In  the  cross  fire  of  conversation  comes 
the  following:  The  topic  is  government. 

"  Speaking  of  the  British  constitution,"  says 
Adams,  "  purge  that  constitution  of  its  corrup 
tion,  and  give  to  its  popular  branch  equality  of 
representation,  and  it  would  be  the  most  per 
fect  constitution  ever  devised  by  the  wit  of 


man." 


Hamilton  cocks  his  ear.  "  Sir,"  says  he, 
"  purge  the  British  constitution  of  its  corrup 
tion,  and  give  to  its  popular  branch  equality  of 
representation,  and  it  would  become  an  imprac 
ticable  government.  As  it  stands  at  present, 
with  all  its  supposed  defects,  it  is  the  most  pow 
erful  government  that  ever  existed." 

Presently,  the  currents  of  converse  shift,  and 
the  torrid  heats  of  party  are  considered.  It  is 
now  that  Jefferson  is  heard  from. 

"  The  situation  is  deplorable !  "  he  exclaims. 
"  You  and  I,  sir  " — looking  across  at  Adams — 
"  have  seen  warm  debates  and  high  political  pas 
sions.  But  gentlemen  of  different  politics  would 
then  speak  to  each  other,  and  separate  the  busi 
ness  of  the  Senate  from  that  of  society.  It  is 
not  so  now.  Men  who  have  been  intimate  all 
their  lives  cross  the  street  to  avoid  meeting,  and 
turn  their  heads  another  way  lest  they  be  obliged 
186 


THE    TRIUMPH    OF    AARON 

to  touch  their  hats.  Men's  passions  are  boiling 
over;  and  one  who  keeps  himself  cool,  and  clear 
of  the  contagion,  is  so  far  below  the  point  of  or 
dinary  conversation  that  he  finds  himself  socially 
cast  away.  More;  there  is  a  moral  breaking 
down.  The  interruption  of  letters  is  becom 
ing  so  notorious  " — here  he  looks  hard  at  Ham 
ilton,  whose  followers  are  supposed  to  peep  into 
letters  not  addressed  to  them — "  that  I  am 
forming  a  resolution  of  declining  correspondence 
with  my  friends  through  the  channels  of  the 
post  office  altogether." 

Even  during  Aaron's  short  stay  at  the  Capi 
tol,  fresh  fuel  is  heaped  upon  the  fires  of  his 
Hamilton  hates.  A  cloud  blows  up  in  the  sky; 
war  with  France  is  threatened.  Washington  at 
Mount  Vernon  is  commissioned  commander  in 
chief;  Hamilton — the  active — is  placed  next  to 
him.  Aaron's  name,  sent  in  for  a  general's 
commission,  is  secretly  vetoed  by  Hamilton 
whispering  in  the  Adams  ear. 

Adams  does  not  like  the  veto;  he  thinks  he 
should  name  Aaron,  and  says  so. 

"  If  you  do,"  declares  Hamilton  warn- 
ingly,  "  it  will  defeat  your  reelection." 

Adams  groans  and  gives  way.  It  is  the  argu 
ment  wherewith  Hamilton  never  fails  to  drive 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

him  or  curb  him  as  he  will.  Aaron  hears  of  this 
new  offense;  he  says  nothing,  but  lays  it  away 
with  the  others. 

Candidate  Jefferson  and  Manager  Aaron  are 
far  apart  in  their  hopes  and  fears,  the  former 
taking  the  gloomy  view.  They  come  together 
confidentially. 

"  I  have  looked  over  the  field,"  says  Jeffer 
son,  "  and  we  are  already  beaten." 

"  Sir,"  returns  Aaron  with  grim  point,  "  you 
should  look  again.  I  think  you  see  things  wrong 
end  up." 

"  My  hatred  of  Hamilton,"  observes  Aaron 
to  Van  Ness,  as  their  coach  rolls  north  for  home, 
11  is  the  good  fortune  of  Jefferson.  I  shall  be 
fighting  my  own  fight,  and  so  I  shall  win.  If  I 
were  fighting  only  for  Jefferson,  I  can  well  see 
how  the  strife  might  have  another  upcome." 

The  campaign  draws  down;  it  is  Adams 
against  Jefferson,  Federal  against  Republican. 
Hamilton  leaves  the  seat  of  government,  and 
comes  to  New  York  to  take  personal  charge. 
At  that  his  designs  are  Janus-faced.  He  says 
"  Adams,"  but  he  means  "  Pinckney."  He 
foresees  that,  if  Adams  be  given  another  term, 
he  will  defy  control.  Wherefore  he  is  publicly 
for  Adams,  and  privately  for  Pinckney — he 
188 


THE    TRIUMPH    OF    AARON 

looks  at  Massachusetts  but  sees  only  South 
Carolina.  This  collision  of  pretense  and  pur 
pose,  on  Hamilton's  false  part,  gets  vastly  in 
the  Federal  way.  That  it  should  do  so  will 
instantly  occur  to  curious  ones,  if  they  will  but 
seek  to  go  south  by  heading  north. 

As  Hamilton  sets  out  to  take  presidential  pos 
session  of  New  York,  he  has  no  misgivings. 
He  knows  little  or  nothing  of  Aaron's  designs 
or  what  that  ingenious  gentleman  has  been 
about. 

"  There  is  the  Manhattan  Bank  of  course; 
but  what  can  it  do?  There  are  the  Bucktails 
— who  are  vulgar  clods !  There  are  the  Living 
stons  and  the  Clintons — he  has  beaten  them  be 
fore!" 

Thus  run  the  reflections  of  the  confident 
Hamilton.  No;  he  sees  only  triumph  ahead. 
He  gives  Aaron  and  his  candidate  Jefferson — 
with  their  borrel  issue  of  Alien  and  Sedition — 
not  half  the  thought  that  he  devotes  to  ways 
and  means  by  which  he  hopes  finally  to  steal  the 
electors  from  Adams,  and  produce  Pinckney 
in  the  White  House.  That  is  Hamilton's  dream 
of  power — Pinckney ! 

Everything  pivots  on  the  legislature;  'since 
it  is  the  legislature  which  will  select  the  electors. 
189 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

Hamilton,  bearing  in  mind  his  intended  steal 
of  the  State,  prepares  his  list  of  candidates  for 
Albany.  He  does  not  pick  them  for  either  wis 
dom  or  moral  worth;  what  he  is  after  are  legis 
lators  whom  he  can  certainly  manhandle  to 
match  his  designs,  and  who  will  give  him  elec 
tors — he  himself  will  furnish  the  names — of  a 
Pinckney  not  an  Adams  complexion.  He  makes 
up  his  slate  to  that  treasonable  end;  and  the 
swift  Aaron  gets  a  copy  before  the  ink  is  dry. 

Aaron  smiles  when  he  runs  down  the  ignoble 
muster  of  Hamilton's  boneless  nonentities. 

"  They  are  the  least  in  the  town!  "  he  mut 
ters.  "  I  shall  pit  against  them  the  town's 
greatest." 

Aaron  with  his  Bucktails,  now  makes  ready 
his  own  legislative  ticket.  At  the  head  he  places 
old  North-of-Ireland  Clinton — a  local  Whit- 
tington,  ten  times  governor  of  the  State.  Gen 
eral  Gates — for  whom  Aaron,  when  time  was, 
plotted  the  downfall  of  Washington,  and  who 
received  the  sword  of  the  vanquished  Burgoyne 
and  sent  that  popinjay  back  to  England  to  fail 
at  play-writing — comes  next.  After  General 
Gates  the  wily  Aaron  writes  "  Samuel  Osgood  " 
— who  was  Washington's  postmaster  general — 
"  Henry  Rutgers,  Elias  Neusen,  Thomas  Storms, 
190 


THE    TRIUMPH    OF    AARON 

George  Warner,  Philip  Arcularius,  James  Hunt, 
Ezekiel  Robbins,  Brockholst  Livingston,  and 
John  Swartwout " — every  name  a  tower  of 
strength. 

Hamilton  cannot  repress  a  flutter  of  fear  as 
he  reads  the  noble  roster;  but  his  unflagging 
vanity,  which  serves  him  instead  of  a  more  rea 
sonable  optimism,  rushes  to  his  rescue.  None 
the  less  it  jars  on  him  a  bit  strangely,  albeit,  he 
laughs  at  it  for  a  jest,  that  the  best  regarded 
of  the  town  should  make  up  the  ticket  of  the 
yeomanry  and  the  crude  Bucktails,  while  the 
aristocratical  Federals  and  the  equally  aris- 
tocratical  Cincinnati — that  coterie  of  per 
fume  and  patricianism ! — search  the  gutters 
for  theirs. 

Seeing  himself  on  the  Jefferson  ticket,  old 
North-of-Ireland  Clinton  makes  trouble.  He 
sends  for  Aaron  and  his  committee,  and  notifies 
them  that  he  cannot  consent  to  run. 

"  If  you,  Colonel  Burr,  were  the  candidate," 
he  says,  "  I  should  run  gladly;  but  Jefferson  I 
hate." 

In    his   hope's   heart,    old    North-of-Ireland 

Clinton- — who,     for    all    his    North-of-Ireland 

blood,  was  born  in  America — thinks  he  himself 

may  be  struck  by  the  presidential  lightning,  and 

191 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

does  not  intend  to  place  any  deflecting  obstruc 
tion  in  the  path  of  such  descending  bolt. 

Aaron  has  forestalled  the  Clinton  refusal  in 
his  thoughts,  and  is  not  surprised  by  the  high 
Clintonian  attitude.  He  tries  persuasion;  the 
old  ex-governor  and  would-be  president  only 
plants  himself  more  firmly.  Under  no  circum 
stances  shall  he  agree  to  run ;  his  honored  name 
must  not  be  used. 

It  is  now  that  Aaron  shows  his  teeth: 
"  Governor  Clinton,"  says  he,  "  when  it  comes 
to  that,  our  committee's  appearance  before  you, 
preferring  the  request  that  you  run,  is  a  cere 
mony  rather  of  courtesy  than  need.  With  the 
last  word,  regardless  of  either  your  plans  or 
your  preferences,  the  public  we  represent  is  per 
fect  in  its  right  to  name  you,  and  compel  you  to 
run.  And,  sir,  making  short  what  might  become 
long,  and  so  saving  time  for  us  all,  I  must  now 
notify  you  that,  should  you  continue  to  withhold 
your  consent,  we  stand  already  determined  to 
retain  and  use  your  name  despite  refusal,  as  a 
course  entirely  within  the  lines  of  popular  right." 

In  the  looks  and  tones  of  Aaron,  the  old 
North-of-Ireland  governor  reads  decision  not 
to  be  revoked,  and  for  once  in  his  obstinate  life 
surrenders  gracefully. 

192 


THE    TRIUMPH    OF    AARON 

"  Gentlemen,"  says  he,  with  a  bland  wave  of 
the  hand  to  Aaron  and  his  Bucktail  committee, 
"  since  you  put  it  in  that  way,  refusal  is  out  of 
my  power.  Also  let  me  add,  that  no  man 
could  take  a  nomination  from  a  higher,  a  more 
honorable,  a  more  patriotic  source." 

The  campaign,  on  in  earnest,  goes  forward 
with  a  roar.  Not  a  screaming  item  is  omitted. 
Guns  boom;  flags  flaunt;  bands  of  music  bray; 
gay  processions  go  marching;  crackers  splutter 
and  snap ;  orators  with  iron  throats  sweep  down 
on  spellbound  crowds  in  gales  of  red-faced  elo 
quence;  flaming  rockets,  when  the  sun  goes 
down,  streak  the  night  with  fire ;  the  bold  Buck- 
tails,  cidered  to  the  brim,  cause  Brom  Martling's 
long-room  to  ring  again,  and  make  the  inter 
section  of  Spruce  and  Nassau  a  Bedlam  cross 
roads. 

This  is  well;  yet  Aaron  desires  more.  The 
issue  is  Alien  and  Sedition;  he  yearns  for  an 
overt  expression  of  what  villain  work  may  be 
done  by  that  black  statute. 

Aaron's  strength,  as  a  captain  of  politics,  lies 
in  his  intuitive  knowledge  of  men.  He  is  never 
popular — never  loved  while  ever  admired. 
Men  may  no  more  love  him  than  they  may  love 
a  diamond,  or  a  Damascus  sword  blade,  or  a 
u  193 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

tallest,  sun-kissed,  snow-capped  mountain  peak. 
Still  that  innate  grasp  of  men,  and  what  motives 
will  move  them,  is  as  an  edged  tool  in  his  hands 
wherewith  to  carve  out  triumph.  This  gift  of 
man-reading  comes  in  play  when  now  he  would 
exhibit  Alien  and  Sedition  in  its  baleful  work 
ings. 

There  is  a  Judge  Yates;  his  home  is  in  Ot- 
sego.  As  though  he  had  builded  him,  Aaron  is 
aware  of  Yates  in  his  elements.  That  honest 
man  is  of  your  natural-born  martyrs.  Is  there 
a  headsman's  block,  there  he  lays  his  neck ;  given 
a  scaffold,  he  instantly  mounts  it ;  into  every  pil 
lory  he  thrusts  his  head  and  hands,  into  every 
stocks  his  heels ;  by  every  stake  he  takes  his  stand 
as  soon  as  it  is  put  up;  and  he  would  sooner 
rrveet  a  despot  than  a  friend.  And  yet — to  de 
fend  Yates — that  bent  for  martyrdom  is  noth 
ing  less  than  a  bent  to  be  noble;  for  a  martyr 
is  but  a  hero  reversed.  The  two  are  brothers; 
a  hero  is  only  a  martyr  who  succeeds,  a  martyr 
only  a  hero  who  fails. 

Aaron  sends  for  the  oppression-thirsty  Yates. 
"  Here  is  a  pamphlet  flaying  Adams,"  says  he. 
"It  is  raw  and  ferocious.  Take  it  home  and 
circulate  it." 

"Why?"  asks  Yates. 
194 


THE    TRIUMPH    OF    AARON 

"  Because  the  Federalists  will  arrest  you. 
They  are  fools  enough  to  do  it." 

"  Doubtless!  "—this  dryly.  "  But  what  ad 
vantage  do  you  discover  in  having  me  locked 
up?" 

"  Man!  can't  you  see?  It  will  illustrate  their 
tyranny!  Your  seizure  will  be  on  a  United 
States  warrant.  That  means  they  must  bring 
you  from  Otsego  to  New  York.  Think  what  a 
triumph  that  should  be — you,  the  paraded  vic 
tim  of  the  monarchical  Adams!  " 

Yates  goes  home  to  Otsego  with  a  gay,  elate 
heart,  and  publishes  Aaron's  blood-raw  pam 
phlet.  He  is  seized  and  paraded,  as  the  astute 
Aaron  has  foreseen.  The  flocking  farmers 
fringe  the  captive's  line  of  march.  Yates  is  a 
martyr,  and  makes  his  journey  through  double 
ranks  of  sympathy  for  himself  and  curses  for 
the  despotic  Adams.  The  martyrdom  of  Yates 
is  worth  a  thousand  votes. 

"  It  is  the  difference  between  the  eye  and  the 
ear,"  says  Aaron  to  his  aide,  Swartwout.  "  You 
might  explain  the  iniquities  of  Alien  and  Sedi 
tion,  and  never  rouse  the  people.  Show  them 
those  iniquities,  and  they  take  fire.  It  is  quite 
natural  enough.  I  tell  you  of  a  man  crushed  by 
a  falling  tree ;  you  feel  a  conventional  shock  that 

195 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

lasts  a  minute.  Should  you  some  day  see  a  man 
crushed  by  a  falling  tree,  you  will  start  in  your 
sleep  for  a  twelvemonth  with  the  pure  horror 
of  it.  Wherefore,  never  address  the  ear  when 
you  can  appeal  to  the  eye.  The  gateway  to  the 
imagination  is  the  eye." 

The  campaign  wags  to  a  close;  the  day  of 
the  ballot  has  its  dawning.  To  the  amazed 
chagrin  of  Hamilton,  Aaron  and  his  Bucktails 
go  over  him  at  the  polls  with  a  rousing  majority 
of  four  hundred  and  ninety;  he  is  beaten,  Aaron 
is  dominant,  New  York  is  Jefferson's.  The 
blow  shakes  Hamilton  to  the  heart,  and  for  the 
moment  he  can  neither  plan  nor  act.  In  the 
face  of  such  disaster,  he  sits  stricken. 

Presently,  as  though  the  bad  in  him  is  more 
vivid  than  the  good  and  quicker  at  recovery,  that 
old  instinct  of  larceny  struggles  to  its  feet.  He 
will  steal  the  State;  not  from  Adams  as  he 
planned,  but  from  Jefferson.  He  scribbles  a 
note  to  Jay,  who  is  in  town  at  his  home,  urging 
him  as  governor  to  call  a  special  session  of  the 
legislature,  a  Federal  Legislature,  and  go  about 
the  crime.  He  feels  the  necessity  of  justifica 
tion;  for  Jay  is  of  a  skittish  honor.  This  on  his 
mind,  he  closes  with :  "  It  is  the  only  way  by 
which  we  can  prevent  an  atheist  in  religion  and 
196 


THE     TRIUMPH    OF    AARON 

a  fanatic  in  politics  from  getting  possession  of 
the  helm  of  government." 

Jay  reads,  and  draws  down  his  brows  in  a 
frown.  Hamilton's  messenger  is  waiting. 

"  Governor,"  says  the  messenger,  "  General 
Hamilton  bid  me  get  an  answer." 

"  Tell  General  Hamilton  there  is  no  answer." 

Jay  rereads  the  note.  Then  he  takes  quill, 
writes  a  sentence  on  the  back,  and  files  it  away  in 
a  pigeonhole.  Years  later,  when  Jay  and  Ham 
ilton  and  Adams  and  Jefferson  and  Aaron  are 
dead  and  under  the  grass  roots,  hands  yet  un 
formed  will  draw  the  letter  forth  and  unborn 
eyes  will  read:  "  Proposing  a  measure  for  party 
purposes  which  I  do  not  think  it  would  become 
me  to  adopt.  J.  J." 


CHAPTER    XV 

THE    INTRIGUE   OF   THE    TIE 

HAMILTON  writhes  and  twists  like  a 
hurt   snake.      Helpless    in    that    first 
effort  before  the  adamantine  honesty 
of  Jay,  when  the  breath  of  his  courage  returns, 
he  bends  himself  to  consider,  whether  by  other 
means,  fair  or  foul,  the  election  may  not  yet  be 
stolen  for  Pinckney.     He  sends  out  a  flock  of 
letters  to   the    Federal   leaders,   whom    he   ad 
dresses  loftily  as  their  commander  in  chief  of 
party. 

It  is  now  he  receives  a  fresh_stab.  By  their 
replies,  and  rather  in  the  cool  tone  than  in  the 
substance,  the  Federal  chiefs  show  that  his  bare 
word  is  no  longer  enough  to  move  them.  Wash 
ington  is  dead;  that  potential  name  no  more 
remains  to  conjure  with.  And  now,  to  the  pass 
ing  of  Washington,  has  been  added  his  own  de 
feat.  The  two  disasters  leave  his  voice  of  scanty 
consequence  in  the  parliaments  of  the  Federal- 
198 


INTRIGUE     OF    THE     TIE 

ists.  He  finds  this  out  from  such  as  Cabot  of 
Massachusetts,  Cooper  of  New  York  and  Bay 
ard  of  Delaware,  who  peremptorily  decline  a 
Pinckney  intrigue  as  worse  than  hopeless.  They 
propose  instead — and  therein  lurks  horror — 
that  the  Federal  electors  be  asked  to  abandon 
Adams  for  Aaron.  They  can  take  the  Adams 
electors,  they  argue,  and,  with  what  may  be 
coaxed  from  the  Jefferson  strength,  make  Aaron 
President — their  President — the  President  of 
the  Federalists. 

The  suggestion  to  take  up  Aaron  shocks 
Hamilton  even  more  than  does  his  discovered 
loss  of  power — which  latter,  of  itself,  is  as  a 
blade  of  ice  through  his  heart.  It  is  bitter  to 
lose  the  election;  more  bitter  to  learn  that  his 
decree  is  no  longer  regarded ;  most  bitter  to  hear 
of  Aaron  as  a  possible  President,  and  by  Federal 
votes  at  that.  Broken  of  heart  and  hope,  the 
deposed  king  retires  to  his  country  seat,  the 
Grange,  and  sits  in  mourning  with  his  soul. 

Meanwhile,  Aaron,  as  though  a  presidency  in 
his  personal  favor  possesses  but  minor  interest, 
devotes  himself  to  the  near  nuptials  of  baby 
Theo,  who  is  to  marry  Joseph  Alston,  a  rich>  o 
young  rice  planter  of  South  Carolina. 

Having  turned  the  shoulder  of  their  disregard  - 
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AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

to  Hamilton,  the  Federal  chiefs  confer  among 
themselves  by  letter  and  word  of  mouth.  Their 
great  purpose  is  to  save  themselves  from  Jeffer 
son,  whom  they  fear  and  hate.  They  would 
sooner  have  Aaron,  as  not  so  much  the  stark 
democrat  as  is  the  Man  of  Monticello.  There 
be  folk  to  whom  nothing  is  so  full  of  terror  in 
a  democracy  as  a  democrat ;  and  our  Federalists 
are  white  at  the  thought  of  Jefferson.  Aaron 
would  suit  them  better;  they  think  him  less  of 
a  leveler.  Still  they  must  know  his  feelings. 
They  will  bind  him  with  promises;  for  they, 
cautious  gentlemen,  have  no  notion  of  buying 
a  pig  in  a  poke.  They  seek  out  Aaron,  who 
has  left  off  politics  for  orange  wreaths  and  is 
up  to  the  ears  in  baby  Theo's  wedding.  As  a 
preliminary  they  send  his  lieutenant,  Swartwout, 
to  take  soundings. 

"If  the  presidency  be  tendered,  will  you  ac 
cept  ?  "  asks  Swartwout. 

"  Assuredly !  There  are  two  things,  sir, 
no  gentleman  may  decline — a  lady  and  a  presi- 
dency." 

Aaron  sobers  a  bit  after  this  small  flippancy, 
and  tells  Swartwout  that,  should  he  be  chosen, 
he  will  serve. 

'*  There  can  be  no  refusal,"  he  says.  '  The 
200 


INTRIGUE     OF     THE     TIE 

electors  are  free  to  make  their  choice,  and  he  on 
whom  they  pitch  must  serve.  Mark  this,  how 
ever,"  he  goes  on,  warningly;  "  I  shall  lift  nei 
ther  hand  nor  head  in  the  business;  the  thing 
must  come  to  me  unsought  and  uninvited. 
Also,  since  you,  yourself,  are  of  those  who  will  * 
select  the  electors  for  our  own  State,  I  tell  you, 
as  you  value  my  friendship,  that  New  York  must 
go  to  Jefferson.  We  carried  the  State  for  him, 
and  he  shall  have  it." 

Following  Swartwout's  visit,  Federalists 
Cabot  and  Bayard  wait  upon  Aaron.  They 
point  out  that  he  can  be  President;  but  they  seek 
to  condition  it  upon  certain  promises. 

"  Gentlemen,"  returns  Aaron,  "  I  know  not 
what  in  my  past  has  led  you  to  this  journey. 
I've  no  promises  to  make.  Should  I  ever  be 
President,  I  shall  be  no  man's  president  but  my 


own." 


"  Think  of  the  honor,  sir!  "  says  Federalist 
Bayard. 

"  Honor?  "  repeats  Aaron.    "  Now  I  should^ 
call  it  disgrace  indeed  if  I  went  into  the  White 
House  in  fetters  to  you.     Believe  me,  I  can  see 
my  own  way  to  honor,  sir;  you  need  hold  no 
candle  to  my  feet." 

Although   rebuffed  by   Aaron,   the   Federal 

201 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

chiefs — all  save  the  broken  Hamilton,  eating 
out  his  baffled  heart  at  the  Grange — none  the 
less  go  forward  with  their  designs.  They  call 
away  from  Adams  what  electors  will  follow 
them,  and  gain  a  handful  from  Jefferson  be 
sides.  The  law-demanded  vote  is  finally  taken 
{ and  the  count  shows  Jefferson  seventy-three, 
Aaron  seventy-three,  Adams  sixty-five,  Jay  one. 

No  name  having  received  a  majority,  the 
election  must  go  to  the  House.  The  sixteen 
States,  expressing  themselves  through  their 
House  delegations  and  owning  each  one  vote, 
are  now  to  pick  the  world  a  president.  At  this 
the  campaign  is  all  to  fight  over  again.  But 
in  a  different  way,  on  different  ground,  and  the 
two  candidates  Jefferson  and  Aaron.  % 

In  the  weeks  which  pass  before  the  House 
convenes,  Federalist  Bayard,  in  the  heat  of  the 
pulling  and  hauling  among  House  men,  makes 
a  second  pilgrimage  to  Aaron.  The  latter,  baby 
Theo  being  by  this  time  safely  married  and 
abroad  upon  her  honeymoon,  has  leisure  to  talk. 

Federalist  Bayard  lays  open  the  situation, 
"  As  affairs  are,"  he  explains — he  has  made  a 
count  of  noses — "  Jefferson,  when  the  House 
convenes,  will  have  New  York,  Pennsylvania, 
New  Jersey,  North  Carolina,  Georgia,  Ten- 
202 


INTRIGUE    OF    THE     TIE 

nessee,  Kentucky,  and  his  home  State  of  Vir 
ginia.  You,  for  your  side,  will  have  New 
Hampshire,  Massachusetts,  Rhode  Island,  Con 
necticut,  South  Carolina,  and  my  own  State  of 
Delaware.  The  delegations  of  Maryland  and 
Vermont,  being  evenly  divided  between  yourself 
and  Jefferson,  will  have  no  voice.  The  tally 
will  show  eight  for  Jefferson,  six  for  you,  two 
not  voting.  None  the  less,  in  the  face  of  these 
figures  the  means  of  electing  you  exist.  By  de-  • 
ceiving  one  man — a  great  blockhead — and 
tempting  two — not  incorruptible — you  can  still 

secure  a  majority  of  the  States.     I " 

'  You  have  said  enough,  sir,"  breaks  in 
Aaron.  "  I  shall  deceive  no  one,  tempt  no  one ; 
not  even  you.  Go,  sir;  carry  what  I  say  to  what 
ring  of  Federalists  you  represent.  Also,  you 
may  consider  yourself  personally  fortunate  that 
I  do  not  ask  how  far  your  conduct  should  have 
construction  as  an  insult." 

Federalist  Bayard  hurries  away  with  a  red 
face  and  a  flea  in  his  ear.  Gulping  his  chagrin, 
he  tells  his  fellow  chiefs  that  the  obdurate  Aaron 
will  do  nothing,  consent  to  nothing,  to  help  him 
self. 

Jefferson  does  not  share  Aaron's  chill  indif 
ference.     While  the  latter  comports  himself  as 
203 


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AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

carelessly  as  though  a  White  House  is  an  edi 
fice  of  every  day,  the  Man  of  Monticello  goes 
as  far  the  other  way,  and  feels  all  the  uneasy 
anger  of  him  who  is  on  the  brink  of  being 
robbed.  He  calls  on  the  wooden  Adams,  and 
demands  that  the  wooden  one  exert  his  influence 
with  his  party  in  favor  of  Aaron's  defeat. 

"It  is  I,  sir,"  says  Jefferson,  "whom  the 
people  elected;  and  you  should  see  their  will 
respected." 

Adams  grows  warm.  "  Sir,"  he  retorts,  "  the 
event  is  in  your  power.  Say  that  you  will  do 
justice  to  the  Federalists,  and  the  government 
will  instantly  be  put  into  your  hands." 

"If  such  be  your  answer,  sir,"  returns  Jef 
ferson,  equaling,  if  not  surpassing  the  Adams 
heat,  "  I  have  to  tell  you  that  I  do  not  intend 
to  come  into  the  presidency  by  capitulation." 

Jefferson  leaves  the  White  House,  while 
Adams — who  is  practical,  even  if  high-tempered 
— begins  his  preparations  to  create  and  fill 
twenty-three  life  judgeships,  before  his  successor 
shall  take  possession. 

As  much  as  the  Man  of  Monticello,  however, 
our  wooden  Adams  is  afire  at  the  on-end  con 
dition  of  the  times.  Only  his  wrath  arises,  not 
over  the  war  between  Jefferson  and  Aaron,  but 
204 


INTRIGUE     OF    THE     TIE 

because  he  himself  is  to  be  ousted.  The  action 
of  the  people,  in  its  motive,  is  beyond  his  un 
derstanding.  As  unrepublican  in  his  hidebound 
instincts  as  any  royal  Charles,  he  cannot  grasp 
the  reason  of  his  overthrow. 

Speaking  with  Federalist  Cabot,  he  furnishes 
his  angry  meditations  tongue.  "  What  is  this 
mighty  difference,"  he  cries,  "  which  the  public 
discovers  between  Jefferson  and  myself?  He 
is  for  messages  to  Congress,  I  am  for  speeches ; 
he  is  for  a  little  White  House  dinner  every  day, 
I  am  for  a  big  dinner  once  a  week;  I  am  for  an 
occasional  reception,  he  is  for  a  daily  levee;  he  is 
for  straight  hair  and  liberty,  while  I  think  a  man 
may  curl  or  cue  his  hair  and  still  be  free.  Their 
Jefferson  preference,  sir,  convinces  me  that, 
while  men  are  reasoning,  they  are  not  reason 
able  creatures.  The  one  difference  between  Jef 
ferson  and  myself  is  this :  I  appeal  to  men's  rea 
son,  he  flatters  their  vanity.  The  result — a  mob 
result — is  that  he  stands  victorious,  while  I  lie 
prostrate."  Saying  which  the  wooden,  angry 
Adams  resumes  his  arrangements  for  creating 
and  filling  those  twenty-three  life  judgeships— 
being  resolved,  in  his  narrow  breast,  to  make 
the  most  of  his  dying  moments  as  a  president. 

The  day  of  White  House  fate  arrives;  the 
205 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

House  comes  together.  Seats  are  placed  for 
President  and  Senate.  Also  lounges  are  brought 
in ;  for  there  are  members  too  ill  to  occupy  their 
regular  seats — one  is  even  attended  by  his  wife. 
Before  a  vote  is  taken,  the  House  adopts  an 
order  which  forbids  any  other  business  until  a 
President  is  chosen  and  the  White  House  tie 
determined. 

The  voice  of  the  House  is  announced  by 
States;  the  ballot  falls  as  foreseen  by  Federal 
ist  Bayard.  It  runs  eight  for  Jefferson,  six  for 
Aaron,  with  Maryland  and  Vermont  voiceless, 
because  of  their  evenly  divided  delegations,  and 
a  refusal  on  the  part  of  the  House  to  count  half 
votes  for  any  name.  There  being  no  choice — 
since  no  name  possesses  a  majority  of  all  the 
States — another  vote  is  called.  The  upcome  is 
the  same :  eight  Jefferson,  six  Aaron,  two  mute. 
And  so  through  twenty-nine  hours  of  ceaseless 
balloting. 

Seven  House  days  go  by;  the  vote  continues 
unchanged.  At  the  close  of  the  seventh  day, 
Federalist  Bayard — who  is  the  entire  delega 
tion  from  his  little  State  of  Delaware,  and  until 
then  has  been  casting  its  vote  for  Aaron — be 
holds  a  light.  No  one  may  know  the  sort  of 
light  he  sees.  It  is,  however,  altogether  a  Bay- 
206 


INTRIGUE     OF    THE     TIE 

ard  and  in  no  wise  a  Jefferson  light;  for  the 
Man  of  Monticello  is  of  too  rigid  a  probity  to 
entertain  so  much  as  the  ghost  of  a  bargain. 
On  the  seventh  day,  by  that  new  light,  Feder 
alist  Bayard  changes  his  vote.  Jefferson  is 
named  President,  with  Aaron  Vice-President,, 
and  that  heartbreaking  tie  is  at  an  end. 

The  result  leaves  Aaron  as  coolly  the  picture 
of  polished,  icy  indifference  as  ever  during  his 
icily  polished  days.  The  Man  of  Monticello, 
who  has  been  gloom  one  moment  and  angry  im 
patience  the  next,  feels  most  a  burning  hatred 
of  the  imperturbable  Aaron,  whom  he  blames 
for  what  he  has  gone  through.  The  color  of 
this  hatred  will  deepen,  not  fade,  until  a  day 
when  it  gets  trippingly  in  front  of  Aaron's  plans 
to  send  them  sprawling.  There  is,  however,  no 
present  hateful  indications;  for  Jefferson,  reared 
in  an  age  of  secrets,  can  lock  his  breast  against 
the  curious  and  prying.  President  and  Vice- 
President,  he  and  Aaron  go  about  their  duties 
upon  terms  which  mingle  a  deal  of  courtesy  with 
little  friendly  warmth.  This  excites  no  won 
der;  friendships  between  President  and  Vice- 
President  have  never  been  the  habit. 

In  wielding  the  Senate  gavel,  Aaron  is  an 
example  of  the  lucidly  just.  He  refuses  to  be 
207 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

partisan,  and  presides  for  the  whole  Senate,  not 
a  half.  He  knows  no  friend,  no  foe,  and  adds 
another  coat  of  black  to  the  Jefferson  hate,  by 
voting  when  a  tie  occurs  with  the  Federalists, 
against  the  repeal  of  those  twenty-three  engag 
ing  life  judgeships,  which  the  practical  Adams 
created  and  filled  in  his  industrious  last  days. 

Not  alone  does  Aaron  shine  out  as  the  north 
star  of  Senate  guidance,  but  his  home  rivals 
the  White  House — which  leans  toward  the 
simple-severe  under  Jefferson — as  a  polite  cen 
ter  of  society;  for  baby  Theo  comes  up  from 
South  Carolina  to  preside  over  it — Theo,  lov 
ing  and  lustrous !  Aaron,  with  the  lustrous 
Theo,  entertains  Jerome  Bonaparte,  on  his  way 
to  a  Baltimore  bride.  Also,  Theo,  during  mo 
ments  informal,  lapses  into  gossip  with  Dolly 
Madison,  the  pair  privily  deciding  that  Miss 
Patterson  has  no  bargain  in  the  Franco-Cor- 
sican. 

On  the  lustrous  Theo's  second  visit  to  her 
Vice-Presidential  parent,  she  brings  in  her  arms 
a  small,  red-faced,  howling  bundle,  and,  putting 
it  proudly  into  his  arms,  tells  him  it  bears  the 
name  of  Aaron  Burr  Alston.  Aaron  receives 
the  small  red-faced  howling  bundle  even  more 
proudly  than  it  is  offered,  and  hugs  it  to  his 
208 


THEODOSIA  BURR 

From  the  original  portrait  by  St.  Memin. 


INTRIGUE     OF    THE    TIE 

heart.  From  this  moment,  until  a  dark  one  that 
will  come  later,<  little  Aaron  Burr  Alston  is  tq 
live  the  focus  and  central  purpose  of  all  his 
ambitions.  It  is  for  this  little  one  he  will  make 
his  plots,  and  lay  his  plans,  to  become  a  west 
ern  Bonaparte  and  swoop  at  empire. 

During  these  days  of  Aaron's  eminence  and 
triumph,  the  broken,  beaten  Hamilton  mopes 
about  his  Grange.  Vain,  resentful,  since  politics 
has  turned  its  fickle  back  upon  him,  he  does  his 
best  to  turn  his  back  on  politics.  For  all  that, 
his  mortification,  while  he  plays  farmer  and  pre 
tends  retirement,  finds  voice  at  every  chance. 

He  receives  his  friend  Pinckney,  and  shows 
him  about  his  shaven  acres.  "  And  when  you 
return  home,"  he  says,  imitating  the  lightsome 
and  doing  it  poorly,  "  send  me  some  of  your 
Carolina  paroquets.  Also  a  paper  of  Caro 
lina  melon  seed  for  my  garden.  For  a  garden, 
my  dear  Pinckney  " — this,  with  a  sickly  smile — 
"  is,  as  you  know,  a  very  usual  refuge  for  your 
disappointed  politician."  It  is  now,  his  acute 
bitterness  coming  uppermost,  he  breaks  into  not 
over-manly  complaint — the  complaint  of  self- 
love  wounded  to  the  heart.  "  What  an  odd  des 
tiny  is  mine!  No  man  has  done  more  for  the 
country,  sacrificed  more  for  it,  than  have  I.  No 
15  209 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

man  than  myself  has  stood  more  loyally  by  the 
Constitution — that  frail,  worthless  fabric  which 
I  am  still  striving  to  prop  up !  And  yet  I  have 
the  murmurs  of  its  friends  no  less  than  the  curses 
of  its  foes  to  pay  for  it.  What  can  I  do  better 
than  withdraw  from  the  arena?  Each  day 
proves  more  and  more  that  America,  with  its 
republics,  was  never  meant  for  me." 


CHAPTER    XVI 

THE    SWEETNESS  OF    REVENGE 

WHILE  Aaron  flourishes  with  Senate 
gavel,  and  Hamilton  mourns  his 
downfall  at  the  Grange,  new  men 
are  springing  up  and  new  lines  forming.  The 
Federalists  disappear  in  the  presidential  going 
down  of  the  wooden  Adams;  Aaron,  by  that 
one  crushing  victory,  annihilated  them.  The 
new  alignment  in  New  York  is  personal  rather 
than  political,  and  becomes  the  merest  sepa 
ration  of  Aaron's  friends  from  Aaron's  ene 
mies. 

At  the  head  of  the  latter,  De  Witt  Clinton, 
nephew  to  old  North-of-Ireland  Clinton,  takes 
his  stand.  Being  modern,  Clinton  starts  a  news 
paper,  the  American  Citizen,  and  places  a  scur 
rilous  dog  named  Cheetham  in  charge.  As  a 
counterweight,  Aaron  launches  the  Morning 
Chronicle,  with  Peter  Irving  editor,  and  his  -f 
brother,  young  Washington  Irving,  as  its  lead- 
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AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

ing  writer.  Now  descends  a  war  of  ink,  that  is 
recklessly  acrimonious  and  not  at  all  merry. 

Under  that  spur  of  feverish  ink,  the  two  sides 
fall  to  dueling  with  the  utmost  assiduity.  Ham 
ilton's  son  Philip  insults  Mr.  Eaker,  a  lawyer 
friend  of  Aaron;  and  the  insulted  Mr.  Eaker 
gives  up  the  law  for  one  day  to  parade  young 
Hamilton  at  the  conventional  ten  paces.  It 
is  all  highly  honorable,  all  highly  orthodox; 
and  young  Hamilton  is  killed  in  a  way  which 
reflects  credit  on  those  concerned. 

Aaron's  lieutenant,  John  Swartwout,  fastens 
a  quarrel  upon  De  Witt  Clinton,  for  sundry  ink 
utterances  of  the  latter's  dog-of-types,  Cheet- 
ham.  The  two  cross  the  river  to  a  spot  of  con 
venient  seclusion. 

"  I  wish  it  were  your  chief  instead  of  you !  " 
cries  Clinton,  who  is  not  fine  in  his  politenesses. 

"  So  do  I,"  responds  Swartwout,  being  of  a 
rudeness  to  match  Clinton's.  "  For  he  is  a  dead 
shot,  and  would  infallibly  kill  you;  while  I  am 
the  poorest  hand  with  a  pistol  among  the  Buck- 
tails." 

The  bickering  pair  are  placed.  They  fire  and 
miss.  A  second,  and  yet  a  third  time  their  lead 
flies  shamefully  wide.  At  the  fourth  shot  Clin 
ton  saves  his  credit  by  wounding  Swartwout  in 
212 


SWEETNESS    OF    REVENGE 

the  leg.  The  stubborn  Swartwout  demands  a 
fifth  fire,  and  Clinton  plants  a  second  bullet 
within  two  inches  of  the  first. 

"Are  you  satisfied?"  asks  Mr.  Riker,  who 
acts  for  Clinton. 

"  I  am  not,"  returns  Swartwout  the  stubborn. 
*  Your  man  must  retract,  or  continue  the  fight. 
Kill  or  be  killed,  I  am  prepared  to  shoot  out  the 
afternoon  with  him." 

At  this,  both  Clinton's  fortitude  and  manners 
break  down  together,  and,  refusing  to  either 
fight  on  or  apologize,  he  walks  off  the  field. 
This  nervous  extravagance  creates  a  scandal 
among  our  folk  of  hectic  sensibilities,  and 
shakes  the  Clinton  standing  sorely.  He  is 
promptly  challenged  by  Senator  Dayton — an  ad 
herent  of  Aaron's — but  evades  that  statesman 
at  further  loss  to  his  reputation. 

Meanwhile  Robert  Swartwout,  brother  to 
the  wounded  Swartwout,  calls  out  Mr.  Riker, 
who  acted  for  Clinton  against  the  stubborn 
one,  and  has  the  pleasure  of  dangerously 
wounding  that  personage.  Also,  Editor  Cole- 
man  of  the  Evening  Post,  weary  with  that 
felon  scribe,  goes  after  type-dog  Cheetham  of 
Clinton's  American  Citizen ;  whereat  dog  Cheet 
ham  flies  yelping. 

213 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

This  last  so  disturbs  Harbor  Master  Thomp 
son  of  the  Clinton  forces,  that  he  offers  to  take 
type-dog  Cheetham's  place.  Editor  Coleman 
being  agreeable,  they  fight  in  a  snowstorm  in 
(inappropriately)  Love's  Lane — it  will  be  Uni 
versity  Place  later — and  the  port  loses  a  harbor 
master  at  the  first  fire. 

Aaron,  gaveling  the  Senate  in  the  way  it 
should  legislatively  go,  pays  no  apparent  heed 
to  the  smoky  doings  of  his  warlike  subordinates. 
He  never  takes  his  eyes  from  Hamilton,  how 
ever;  and,  if  that  retired  publicist,  complaining 
in  his  garden,  would  but  cast  his  glance  that  way, 
he  might  read  in  their  black  ophidian  depths  a 
saving  warning.  But  Hamilton  is  blind  or  mad, 
and  thinks  only  on  what  he  may  do  to  injure 
Aaron,  and  never  once  on  what  that  perilous 
Vice-President  might  be  carrying  on  the  shoul 
der  of  his  purposes. 

Hamilton  devotes  his  garden  leisure  to  vilify 
ing  Aaron.  He  goes  stark  staring  raving 
Aaron-mad;  at  the  mention  of  the  name  he  pours 
out  a  muddy  stream  of  slander.  In  talk,  in 
print,  in  what  letters  he  indites,  Aaron  is  ac 
cused  of  every  infamy.  There  is  nothing  so  pre 
posterously  vile  that  he  does  not  charge  him 
with  it.  Aaron  looks  on  and  listens  with  a  grim, 
214 


SWEETNESS    OF    REVENGE 

evil  smile,  saying  nothing.  It  is  as  though  he  but 
waits  for  Hamilton's  offenses  to  ripen  in  their 
accumulation,  as  one  waits  for  apples  to  ripen 
on  a  tree. 

At  last  the  hour  of  harvest  comes;  Aaron 
leaves  Washington  for  Richmond  Hill,  and 
sends  for  his  friend  Van  Ness. 

'  You  once  marveled  at  my  Hamilton  mod 
eration — wondered  that  I  did  not  stop  his  slan 
ders  with  convincing  lead?" 

"  Yes,"  says  Van  Ness. 

4  You  shall  wonder  no  longer,  my  friend. 
The  hour  of  his  death  is  about  to  strike." 

Van  Ness  breaks  into  a  gale  of  protest.  Ham 
ilton,  beaten,  disgraced,  deposed,  is  in  political 
exile !  Aaron,  powerful,  victorious,  is  on  the 
crest  of  fortune !  There  is  no  fairness,  no  equal 
ity  in  an  exchange  of  shots  under  such  circum 
stances  !  Thus  runs  the  opposition  of  Van  Ness. 

"  In  short,"  he  concludes,  "  it  would  be  a  fight 
downhill — a  fight  that  you,  in  justice  to  your 
self,  have  no  right  to  make.  Who  is  Alexander 
Hamilton  ?  Nobody — a  beaten  nobody !  Who 
is  Aaron  Burr?  The  second  officer  of  the  na 
tion,  on  his  sure  way  to  a  White  House !  Let 
me  say,  sir,  that  you  must  not  risk  so  much 
against  so  little." 

215 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

"  There  is  no  risk;  for  I  shall  kill  the  man. 
I  shall  live  and  he  shall  die." 

"  Cannot  you  see?  There  is  the  White 
House !  Adams  went  from  the  Vice-Presidency 
to  the  Presidency;  Jefferson  went  from  the  Vice- 
Presidency  to  the  Presidency;  you  will  do  the 
same.  It's  as  though  the  White  House  were 
already  yours.  And  you  would  throw  it  away 
for  a  shot  at  this  broken,  beaten,  disregarded 
man!  For  let  me  tell  you,  sir;  kill  Hamilton 
and  you  kill  your  chance  of  being  President. 
No  one  may  hope  to  go  into  the  White  House 
on  the  back  of  a  duel." 

About  Aaron's  mouth  twinkles  a  pale  smile. 
It  lights  up  his  face  with  a  cold  dimness,  as  a 
will-o'-the-wisp  lights  up  the  midnight  black 
ness  of  a  wood. 

"  You  have  a  memory  only  for  what  I  lose. 
You  forget  what  I  gain." 

"  What  you  gain?" 

u  Ay,  friend,  what  I  gain.  I  shall  gain  ven 
geance  ;  and  I  would  sooner  be  revenged  than  be 
President." 

"  Now  this  is  midsummer  madness !  "  wails 
Van  Ness.  '  To  throw  away  a  career  such  as 
yours  is  simple  frenzy!  " 

"  I  do  not  throw  away  a  career;  I  begin  one." 
216 


SWEETNESS    OF     REVENGE 

Van  Ness  stares;  Aaron  goes  slowly  on,  as 
though  he  desires  every  word  to  make  an  im 
pression. 

"Listen,    my    friend;    I've    been    preparing. 

Last  week  I  closed  out  all  my  houses  and  lands 

* 

to  John  Jacob  Astor  for  one  hundred  and  forty 
thousand  dollars.  The  one  lone  thing  I  own 
is  Richmond  Hill — the  roof  we  sit  beneath. 
I'd  have  sold  this,  but  I  did  not  care  to  attract 
attention.  There  would  have  come  questions 
which  I'm  not  ready  to  answer." 

Van  Ness  fills  a  glass  of  Cape,  and  settles 
himself  to  hear;  he  sees  that  this  is  but  the 
beginning. 

Aaron  proceeds:  "  As  we  sit  here  to-night, 
Napoleon  has  been  declared  hereditary  Emperor 
of  the  French.  It  has  been  on  its  way  for 
months,  and  the  next  packet  will  bring  us  the 


news." 


"  And  what  have  the  Corsican  and  his  empire 
to  do  with  us?  " 

"  A  President,"  continues  Aaron,  ignoring 
the  question,  "  is  not  comparable  to  an  em 
peror.  The  Presidential  term  is  but  a  stunted 
thing — in  four  years,  eight  at  the  most,  your 
President  comes  to  his  end.  And  what  is  an 
ex-President?  Look  at  Adams,  peevish,  dis- 
'217 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 


gruntled — unhappy  in  what  he  is,  because  he 
remembers  what  he  was.  To  be  a  President  is 
well  enough.  To  be  an  ex-President  is  to  seek 
to  satisfy  present  hunger  with  the  memories  of 
banquets  eaten  years  ago.  For  myself,  I  would 
"f"  sooner  be  an  emperor;  his  throne  is  his  for  life, 
and  becomes  his  son's  or  his  grandson's  after 
him." 

"  What  does  this  lead  to?  "  asks  Van  Ness, 
vastly  puzzled.  "  Admitting  your  imperial  pref 
erences,  how  are  they  applicable  here  and 
now?" 

"  Let  me  show  you,"  responds  Aaron,  still 
slow  and  measured  and  impressive.  "  What  is 
possible  in  the  East  is  possible  in  the  West; 
what  has  been  done  in  Europe  may  be  done  in 
America.  Napoleon  comes  to  Paris  —  lean, 
epileptic,  poor,  unknown,  not  even  French. 
To-day  he  is  emperor.  Also  " — this  with  a 
laugh  which,  however,  does  not  prevent  Van 
Ness  from  seeing  that  Aaron  is  deeply  serious — 
"  also,  he  is  two  inches  shorter  than  myself." 

Van  Ness  leans  back  and  makes  a  little  ges 
ture  with  his  hand,  as  who  should  say:  u  Con 
tinue!" 

"  Very  well!  Would  it  be  a  stranger  story 
if  I,  Aaron  Burr,  were  to  found  an  empire  in 
218' 


SWEETNESS    OF    REVENGE 

the  West — if  I  became  Aaron  I,  as  the  Corsican 
has  become  Napoleon  I?" 

'  You  do  not  talk  of  overturning  our  gov 
ernment?  "  This  in  tones  of  wonder,  and  not 
without  some  flash  of  angry  horror. 

"  Don't  hold  me  so  dull.  The  people  of  this 
country  are  unfitted  for  king  or  emperor.  They 
would  throw  down  a  thousand  thrones  while  you 
set  up  one.  I've  studied  races  and  peoples.  Let 
me  give  you  a  word ;  it  will  serve  should  you  go 
to  nation  building.  Never  talk  of  crowns  or 
thrones  to  blue-eyed  or  gray-eyed  men.  They 
are  inimical,  in  the  very  seeds  of  their  natures, 
to  thrones  and  crowns." 

"  England?" 

"  England,  Norway,  Sweden,  Denmark,  Hol 
land  are  monarchies  only  in  name.  In  fact  and 
spirit  they  are  republics.  If  you  would  have 
king  or  emperor  in  very  truth,  you  must  go  to 
your  black-eyed  folk.  Setting  this  country  aside, 
if  you  cast  a  glance  toward  the  southwest,  you 
will  behold  a  people  who  should  be  the  very 
raw  materials  of  an  empire." 

"  Mexico ! "  exclaims  the  astonished  Van 
Ness. 

"  Ay,  Mexico!    There  is  nothing  which  Na- 
poleon   Bonaparte  has   done  in  France,   which  t 
219 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

Aaron  Burr  may  not  do  in  Mexico.  I  would 
have  the  flower  of  this  country  at  my  back.  In 
deed,  it  should  be  easier  to  ascend  the  throne 
of  the  Montezumas  than  of  the  Bourbons.  I 
believe,  too — for  I  think  he  would  feel  safer 
with  a  brother  emperor  in  the  West — I  might 
count  on  Napoleon's  help  for  that  climbing. 
However,  we  overrun  the  hunt  " — Aaron  seems 
to  recall  himself  like  one  who  comes  out  of  a 
dream — "  I  am  thinking  not  on  empire,  but 
vengeance.  I  have  thrown  out  a  rude  picture 
of  my  plans,  however,  because  I  hope  to  have 
your  company  in  them.  Also,  I  wanted  to  show 
how  utterly  in  my  heart  I  have  given  up  Amer 
ica  and  an  American  career.  It  is  Mexico  and 
the  throne  of  an  emperor,  not  Washington  and 
the  chair  of  a  President,  at  which  I  aim.  I  am 
laying  my  foundations,  not  for  four  years,  not 
for  eight  years,  but  for  life.  I  shall  be  Aaron 
I,  Emperor  of  Mexico;  with  my  grandson, 
Aaron  Burr  Alston,  to  follow  me  as  Aaron  II. 
There ;  that  should  do  for  *  Aaron  and  em 
pire.' '  This,  with  a  return  to  the  cynical: 
"  Now  let  us  get  to  Hamilton  and  vengeance. 
The  scoundrel  has  spat  his  toad-venom  on  my 
name  and  fame  for  twenty  years;  the  turn  shall 
now  be  mine." 

220 


SWEETNESS    OF    REVENGE 

Van  Ness  is  silent;  the  glimpses  he  has  been 
given  of  Aaron's  high  designs  have  tied  his 
tongue. 

Aaron  gets  out  a  letter.  "Here,"  he  says; 
"  you  will  please  carry  that  to  Hamilton.  It 
marks  the  beginning  of  my  revenge.  I  base  it 
on  excerpts  taken  from  a  printed  letter  writ 
ten  by  Dr.  Cooper,  who  says :  *  General  Ham 
ilton  and  Judge  Kent  have  declared  in  substance 
that  they  look  upon  Colonel  Burr  as  a  dangerous 
man,  and  one  who  ought  not  to  be  trusted  with 
the  reins  of  government.  I  could  detail  a  still 
more  despicable  opinion  which  General  Ham 
ilton  has  expressed  of  Colonel  Burr.'  I  de 
mand,"  concludes  Aaron,  "  that  he  explain  or 
account  to  me  for  having  furnished  such  an 
1  opinion  '  to  Dr.  Cooper." 

Van  Ness  purses  up  his  lips,  and  knots  his 
forehead  cogitatively. 

"  Why  pitch  upon  this  letter  of  Cooper's  as  a 
casus  belli?"  he  asks  at  last.  "  It  is  ambigu 
ous,  and  involves  a  question  of  Cooper's  con 
struction  of  English.  If  we  had  nothing  better 
it  might  do;  but  there  is  no  such  pressure. 
Hamilton,  on  many  recent  occasions,  in  speeches 
and  in  print,  has  applied  to  you  the  lowest  epi 
thets." 

221 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

'  You  may  recall,  sir,  that  I  once  told  you 
I  was  an  artist  of  revenge.  It  is  this  very  am 
biguity  I'm  after.  I  would  hook  the  fellow — 
hook  him  and  play  him  as  I  would  a  fish! 
The  man's  a  coward.  I  saw  it  written  on  his 
face  that  day  when,  following  *  Long  Island,' 
he  threw  away  his  gun  and  stores.  By  coming 
at  him  with  this  ambiguity,  he  will  hope  in  the 
beginning  to  secure  himself  by  evasions.  He 
will  write;  I  shall  respond;  there  will  be  quite 
a  correspondence.  Days  will  drag  along  in 
agony  and  torment  to  him.  And  all  the  time 
he  cannot  escape.  From  the  moment  I  send 
him  that  letter  he  is  mine.  It  is  as  if  I  had  him 
in  a  narrow  lane ;  he  cannot  get  by  me.  On  the 
other  hand,  if  I  come  upon  him,  as  you  suggest, 
with  some  undeniable  charge,  it  will  all  be  over 
in  a  moment.  He  will  be  obliged  at  once  to  toe 
the  peg.  You  now  understand  that  I  design  only 
in  this  letter  to  hook  him  hard  and  fast.  When 
I  have  so  played  him  as  to  satisfy  even  my 
hatred,  rest  secure  I'll  reel  him  in.  He  can 
no  more  avoid  meeting  me  than  he  can  avoid 
trembling  when  he  contemplates  the  dark  prom 
ise  of  that  meeting.  His  wife  would  despise 
him,  his  very  children  cut  him  dead  were  he  to 
creep  aside." 

222 


SWEETNESS    OF    REVENGE 

Van  Ness  goes  with  Aaron's  letter  to  Ham 
ilton.  The  latter,  as  he  reads  it,  cannot  repress 
a  start.  The  blood  rushes  from  his  face  to  his 
heart  and  back  again;  for,  as  though  the  blind 
were  made  to  see,  he  realizes  the  snare  into 
which  he  has  walked — a  snare  that  he  himself 
has  spread  to  his  own  undoing. 

With  an  effort  he  commands  his  agitation. 
"  You  shall  have  my  answer  by  the  hand  of  Mr. 
Pendleton,"  he  says. 

Hamilton's  reply,  long  and  wordy,  is  two 
days  on  its  way.  As  Aaron  foretold,  it  is  wholly 
evasive,  and  comes  in  its  analysis  to  be  nothing 
better  than  a  desperate  peering  about  for  a  hole 
through  which  its  author  may  crawl,  and  drag 
with  him  what  he  calls  his  honor. 

Aaron's  reply  closes  each  last  loophole  of  es 
cape.  "  Your  letter,"  he  says,  "  has  furnished 
me  new  reasons  for  requiring  a  definite  reply." 

Hamilton  reads  his  doom  in  this;  and  yet  he 
cannot  consent  to  the  sacrifice,  but  struggles  on. 
He  makes  a  second  response,  this  time  at  greater 
length  than  before. 

Aaron,  implacable  as  Death,  reads  what 
Hamilton  has  written. 

"  I  think  we  should  close  the  business,"  he 
says  to  Van  Ness,  as  he  gives  him  Hamilton's 
223 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

letter.  "  It  has  been  ten  days  since  I  sent  my 
initial  note,  and  I  have  had  enough  of  vengeance 
in  anticipation.  And  so  for  the  last  act." 

Aaron  dispatches  Van  Ness  with  a  peremp 
tory  challenge.  There  being  no  gateway  of  re 
lief,  Hamilton  is  driven  to  accept.  Even  then 
comes  a  cry  for  time;  Hamilton  asks  that  the 
hour  of  final  meeting  be  fixed  ten  further  days 
away.  Aaron  smiles  that  pale  smile  of  hatred 
made  content,  and  grants  the  prayed-for  delay. 

The  morning  following  the  challenge  and  its 
acceptance,  Pendleton  appears  with  another 
note  from  Hamilton — who  obviously  prefers 
pens  to  pistols  for  the  differences  in  hand. 
Aaron,  smiling  his  pale  smile  of  contented  hate, 
refuses  to  receive  it. 

"  There  is,"  he  observes,  "  no  more  to  be  said 
on  either  side,  a  challenge  having  been  given 
and  accepted.  The  one  thing  now  is  to  load  the 
pistols  and  step  off  the  ground." 

It  is  four  days  later,  and  the  fight  six  days 
away.  Aaron  and  Hamilton  meet  at  a  dinner 
given  on  Independence  Day.  Hamilton  is  hys 
terically  gay,  and  sings  his  famous  song,  "  The 
Drum."  Also,  he  never  once  looks  at  Aaron, 
who,  dark  and  lowering  and  silent,  the  black 
serpent  sparkle  in  his  eye,  seldom  shifts  his  gaze 
224 


SWEETNESS    OF    REVENGE 

from  Hamilton.  Aaron's  stare,  remorseless, 
hungrily  steadfast,  is  the  stare  of  the  tiger  as 
it  sights  its  prey. 

Dr.  Hosack  calls  on  Aaron,  where  the  latter 
sits  alone  at  Richmond  Hill.  Wine  is  brought; 
the  good  doctor  takes  a  nervous  glass.  He  has 
a  rosy,  social  face,  has  the  good  doctor,  a  face 
that  tells  of  friendships  and  the  genial  board. 
Just  now,  however,  he  is  out  of  spirits.  Des 
perately  setting  down  his  wineglass,  he  floun 
ders  into  the  business  that  has  brought  him. 

"  I  can  hardly  excuse  my  coming,"  he  says, 
"  and  I  apologize  before  I  state  my  errand.  I 
would  have  you  believe,  too,  that  my  presence 
here  is  entirely  by  my  own  suggestion. " 

Aaron  bows. 

The  good  doctor  explains  that  he  has  been 
called  upon  to  go,  professionally,  to  the  fighting 
ground  with  Hamilton. 

"  That  is  how  I  became  aware,"  he  concludes, 
"  of  what  you  have  in  train.  I  resolved  to  see 
you,  and  make  one  last  effort  at  a  peaceful  so 
lution." 

Aaron  coldly  shakes  his  head :  "  There  can  be 
no  adjustment." 

"  Think  of  his  family,  sir !    Think  of  his  wife 
and  his  seven  children!  " 
16  225 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

"  Sir,  it  is  he  who  should  have  thought  of 
them.  You  should  have  gone  to  him  when  he 
was  maligning  me.  What?  You  know  how 
this  man  has  slandered  me !  He  has  spoken  to 
you  as  he  has  to  hundreds  of  others!"  The 
good  doctor  looks  guiltily  uneasy.  "  And  now 
I  am  asked  to  sit  down  with  the  scorn  he  has 
heaped  upon  me,  because  he  has  a  family! 
Does  it  not  occur  to  you,  sir,  that  I,  too,  have 
a  family?  But  with  this  difference:  Should  he 
fall,  there  will  be  eight  to  share  the  loss  among 
them.  If  I  fall,  the  blow  descends  on  but  one 
pair  of  loving  shoulders,  and  those  the  slender 
shoulders  of  a  girl." 

There  is  no  hope:  The  good  doctor  goes  his 
disappointed  way. 

The  fighting  grounds  are  a  flat,  grassy  shelf 
of  rock,  under  the  heights  of  Weehawken.  The 
morning  is  bright,  with  the  July  sun  coming 
up  over  the  bay.  Hamilton,  pale,  like  a  man 
going  open-eyed  to  death,  takes  his  barge  at  the 
landing  near  the  Grange.  The  good  Dr.  Ho- 
sack  and  his  friend  Pendleton  are  with  him. 
The  barge  is  pulled  across  to  the  grassy  shelf, 
under  the  somber  Weehawken  heights. 

The  good  doctor  remains  by  the  barge,  while 
Hamilton,  with  friend  Pendleton,  ascends  the 
226 


SWEETNESS    OF    REVENGE 

rocky,  shelving,  shingly  twenty  feet  to  the  place 
of  meeting.  They  find  Aaron  and  Van  Ness 
awaiting  them.  Aaron  touches  his  hat  stiffly, 
and  walks  to  the  far  end  of  the  narrow  grassy 
shelf. 

Seconds  Pendleton  and  Van  Ness  toss  a  dol 
lar  piece.  Pendleton  wins  word  and  choice  of 
position. 

Ten  paces  are  stepped  off.  Second  Pendle 
ton  places  his  man  at  the  up-the-river  end  of 
the  six-foot  grassy  shelf.  Aaron,  pistol  in  hand, 
is  given  the  other  end.  The  word  is  to  be: 
"  Present ! — one — two — three — stop  !  "  As  the 
two  stand  in  position,  Aaron  is  confident,  deadly, 
implacable;  Hamilton  looks  the  man  already 
lost. 

Seconds  Pendleton  and  Van  Ness  retire  out  of 
range. 

"  Gentlemen,  are  you  ready?" 

"  Ready!  "  says  Aaron. 

"  Ready!  "  says  Hamilton. 

There  is  a  pause,  heavy  with  death.  Then 
comes : 

"Present! " 

There  is  a  flash  and  a  roar! — a  double  flash, 
a   double  roar!      The   smoke   curls,   the   rocks 
echo !      Hamilton,    with  a  stifled  moan,    reels,  j. 
227 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

clutches  at  nothing,  and  pitches  forward  on  his 
face — shot  through  and  through.  The  Hamil 
ton  lead,  wild  and  high,  cuts  a  twig  above 
Aaron's  head. 

Aaron  takes  a  step  toward  his  slain  foe,  and 
looks  long  and  deep,  like  a  man  drinking.  Van 
Ness  comes  up;  Aaron  tosses  him  the  pistol,  as 
folk  toss  aside  a  tool  when  the  work  is  done — 
well  done.  Then  he  walks  down  to  his  barge, 
and  shoves  away  for  Richmond  Hill,  whose 
green  peaceful  cedars  are  smiling  just  across  the 
river. 

"  It  was  worth  the  price,  Van  Ness,"  says 
Aaron.  "  The  taste  of  that  immortal  vengeance 
will  never  perish  on  my  lips,  nor  its  fragrance 
die  out  in  my  heart." 


CHAPTER    XVII 

AARON    I,    EMPEROR    OF   MEXICO 

AARON  sits  placidly  serene  at  Richmond 
Hill.     Over  his  wine  and  his  cigar,  he 
reduces  those  dreams  of  empire  to  ink 
and  paper.    He  maps  out  his  design  as  architects 
draw  plans  and  specifications  for  a  house.     His 
friends   call — Van   Ness,    the   stubborn   Swart- 
wout,  the  Irvings,  Peter  and  Washington. 

Outside  the  serene  four  walls  of  Richmond 
Hill  there  goes  up  a  prodigious  hubbub  of 
mourning — demonstrative  if  not  deeply  sincere. 
Hamilton,  broken  as  a  pillar  of  politics,  was  still 
a  pillar  of  fashion.  Was  he  not  a  Schuyler  by 
adoption?  Had  he  not  a  holding  in  Trinity? 
Therefore,  come  folk  of  powdered  hair  and 
silken  hose,  who  deem  it  an  opportunity  to  prove 
themselves  of  the  town's  Vere  de  Veres.  There 
dwells  fashionable  advantage  in  tear-shedding 
at  the  going  out  of  an  illustrious  name.  Such 
tear-shedding  provides  the  noble  inference  that 
229 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

the  illustrious  one  was  "  of  us."  Alive  to  this, 
those  of  would-be  fashion  lapse  into  sackcloth 
and  profound  ashes,  the  sackcloth  silk  and  the 
ashes  ashes  of  roses.  Also  they  arrange  a  public 
funeral  at  Trinity,  and  ask  Gouverneur  Morris, 
the  local  Mark  Antony,  to  deliver  an  oration. 

To  the  delicate  sobbing  of  super-fashionable 
ones  is  added  the  pretended  grief  of  Aaron's 
Clintonian  foes.  They  think  to  use  the  death  of 
Hamilton  for  Aaron's  political  destruction. 

At  no  time  does  Aaron,  serene  with  his  wine 
and  his  cigar  and  his  empire-planning,  interpose 
by  word  or  act  to  stem  the  current  of  real  or 
spurious  feeling.  He  heeds  it  no  more,  dwells 
on  it  no  more  than  on  the  ebbing  or  flowing  of 
the  tides,  muttering  about  the  lawn's  shaven 
borders  in  front  of  Richmond  Hill. 

The  duel  is  eleven  days  old.  Aaron,  accom 
panied  by  the  faithful,  stubborn  Swartwout, 
takes  barge  for  Perth  Amboy.  The  stubborn, 
faithful  one  says  uGood-by!"  and  returns; 
Aaron  is  received  by  his  friend  Commodore 
Truxton.  With  Truxton  he  talks  "  empire  " 
all  night.  He  counts  on  English  ships,  he  says; 
being  promised  in  secret  by  British  Minister 
Merry  in  Washington.  Truxton  shall  command 
that  fleet. 

230 


AARON     I,     OF     MEXICO 

Having  set  the  sea-going  Truxton  to  hoping, 
Aaron  pushes  on  for  Philadelphia.  He  meets 
a  beautiful  girl  whom  he  calls  "  Celeste,"  and 
to  whom  he  does  not  speak  of  conquest  or  of  em 
pire.  He  remains  a  week  in  Philadelphia  where, 
by  word  of  Clinton's  scandalized  American 
Citizen :  "  He  walks  openly  about  the  streets  1  " 

Then  to  St.  Simon's  off  the  Georgia  coast, 
guest  of  honor  among  polite  Southern  circles; 
and,  from  St.  Simon's  across  to  South  Carolina 
and  the  noble  Alston  mansion,  to  be  welcomed 
by  the  lustrous  Theo.  Thus  the  summer  wears 
into  fall,  full  of  honor  and  ease  and  love. 

With  the  first  light  flurry  of  snow,  Aaron, 
gavel  in  hand,  calls  the  grave  togaed  ones  to 
order.  It  is  to  be  his  last  session;  with  the  going 
out  of  Congress,  his  Vice-Presidential  term  will 
have  its  end.  During  those  three  Washington 
months  which  ensue,  he  dines  with  the  Presi 
dent,  goes  among  friends  and  enemies  as  of  yore, 
and  never  is  brow  arched  or  glance  averted.  In 
stead,  there  is  marked  regard  for  him ;  folk  com 
pete  to  do  him  honor.  On  the  last  Senate  day 
he  delivers  his  address  of  farewell,  and  men 
pronounce  it  a  marvel  of  dignity,  wisdom,  and 
polish.  So  he  steps  down  from  American  official 
life;  but  not  from  American  interest. 
231 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

Aaron,  throughout  this  last  Washington  win 
ter,  presses  his  plans  of  empire.  He  attaches 
to  them  scores  of  his  Bucktail  followers — the 
Swartwouts,  Dr.  Erick  Bollman,  the  Ogdens, 
Marinus  Willet,  General  Du  Puyster.  Among 
those  of  Congress  who  lend  their  ears  and  give 
their  words  are  Mathew  Lyon,  and  Senators 
Dayton  and  Smith.,  These  are  weary  of  civil 
ization  and  the  peace  that  rusts.  Their  hearts 
are  eager  for  conquest,  and  a  clash  with  the 
rough,  wilderness  conditions  of  the  West  be 
yond  the  Mississippi. 

It  is  evening;  Aaron  sits  in  his  rooms  at  the 
Indian  Queen.  Outside  the  rain  is  falling; 
Pennsylvania  Avenue  wallows  a  world  of  mire. 
Slave  Peter  intrudes  his  black  face  to  announce : 

"  Gen'man  comin'  -up,  sah!  " 

Peter,  the  privileged,  would  introduce  Guy  of 
Warwick,  or  the  great  Dun  Cow,  with  as  little 
ceremony. 

As  Peter  withdraws,  a  burly  figure  fills  the 
doorway. 

"  Come  in,  General,"  says  Aaron. 

General  Wilkinson  is  among  Aaron's  older 

acquaintances.     They  were  together  at  Quebec. 

They  were  fellow  cabalists  against  Washington 

in  an  hour  of  Valley   Forge.      Now  they  are 

232 


AARON     I,     OF     MEXICO 

hand  to  hilt  for  Mexico,  and  that  throne-build 
ing  upon  which  Aaron  has  fixed  his  heart.    Also,   ; 
Wilkinson  is  in  present  command  of  the  military 
forces  of  the  United  States  in  the  Southwest,  • 
with  headquarters  at  Natchez  and  New  Orleans ; 
and,  because  of  that  army  control,  he  is  the  key 
stone  to  the  arch  of  Aaron's  plans. 

The  broad  Wilkinson  face  glows  at  Aaron's 
genial  "  Come  in."  Its  owner  takes  advantage 
of  the  invitation  to  draw  a  chair  near  the  log 
fire,  which  the  wet  March  night  makes  com 
fortable.  Then  he  pours  himself  a  glass  of 
whisky. 

Wilkinson  is  worth  considering.  He  is 
paunchy,  gross,  noisy,  vain,  bragging,  shallow, 
with  a  red,  sweat-distilling  face,  and  a  nose  that 
tells  of  the  bottle.  He  wears  to-night  the  uni 
form  of  his  rank.  His  coat  exhibits  an  exuber 
ance  of  epaulette  and  an  extravagance  of  gold 
braid  that  speak  of  tastes  for  coarse  glitter. 
His  iron-gray  hair,  shining  with  bear's  grease, 
matches  his  fifty  years.  In  conversation  he 
becomes  a  composite  of  Rabelais  and  Munchau- 
sen.  As  for  holding  wine  or  stronger  liquor,  he 
rivals  the  Great  Tun  of  Heidelberg. 

The   stubborn    Swartwout   doesn't  like  him. 
On  a  late  occasion  he  expresses  that  dislike. 
233 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

'  To  be  frank,  Chief,"  observes  the  blunt 
Bucktail,  who,  because  of  Aaron's  headship  of 
the  Tammany  organization,  always  addresses 
him  as  "  Chief  " — "  to  be  frank,  I  believe  your 
friend  Wilkinson  to  be  as  crooked  as  a  dog's 
hind  leg." 

'  You  are  right,  sir,"  says  Aaron;  "  he  is  both 
dishonest  and  treacherous.  It  was  he  who  un 
covered  our  plans  to  unhorse  Washington,  by 
*  blabbing  '  them,  as  Conway  called  it,  to  Lord 
Stirling.  Yes ;  dishonest  and  treacherous  is  Wil 
kinson." 

"Why,  then,  do  you  trust  him?" 

"Why  do  I  trust  him?"  repeats  Aaron. 
"  For  several  sufficient  reasons.  He  has  been 
in  and  out  of  Mexico,  and  is  as  familiar  with 
the  country  as  I  am  with  Richmond  Hill.  He 
is  cheek  and  jowl  with  the  Bishop  of  New  Or 
leans  ;  and  I  hope  to  attach  the  church  to  my  en 
terprise.  Most  of  all,  he  commands  the  United 
States  forces  in  the  Southwest.  Moreover,  I 
count  his  dishonesty  and  genius  for  double  deal 
ing  as  virtues.  They  should  become  of  impor 
tance  in  my  enterprise. 

"As  how?"  demands  the  mystified  Buck- 
tail. 

"  As  follows:  Mexico  is  rich  in  gold;  I  argue 
234 


GENERAL  JAMES  WILKINSON 

From  a  crayon  portrait  by  Barnes  Sbarpless   (in   Independence  Hall, 
Philadelphia,  Pa.}. 


AARON     I,     OF     MEXICO 

that  his  dishonest  avarice  will  take  him  loyally 
with  me,  hand  and  glove,  in  the  hope  of  loot. 
His  treacherous  talents  should  come  finely  into 
play  in  certain  diplomacies  that  must  be  entered 
upon  with  Mexican  officials,  who  will  favor  me. 
Likewise  he  should  find  them  exercise  in  deal 
ings  with  the  war  department  here  in  Wash 
ington;  for  you  can  see,  sir,  that,  in  his  dual 
roles  of  filibusterer  and  military  commander  of 
the  Southwest  for  this  government,  he  is  cer 
tain  to  be  often  in  collision  with  himself." 

The  stubborn  Bucktail  says  no  more,  being 
too  well  drilled  in  deference  to  Aaron's  will 
and  word.  It  is  clear,  however,  that  his  distrust 
of  the  whisky-faced  Wilkinson  has  not  been  put 
to  sleep. 

Wilkinson,  as  he  swigs  his  whisky  by  Aaron's 
fire,  sits  in  happy  ignorance  of  the  distrustful 
Bucktail's  views.  Confident  as  to  his  own  high 
importance,  he  plunges  freely  into  Aaron's 
plans. 

"  Five  hundred,"  says  Aaron,  u  full  five  hun 
dred  are  agreed  to  go;  and  I  have  lists  of  five 
thousand  stout  young  fellows  besides,  who 
should  crowd  round  our  standard  at  the  whis 
tle  of  the  fife.  The  move  now  is  to  purchase 
eight  hundred  thousand  acres  on  the  Washita, 
235 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

as  a  base  from  which  to  operate  and  a  pretext 
for  bringing  our  people  together.  My  excuse 
for  recruiting  them,  you  understand,  will  be  that 
they  are  to  settle  on  those  eight  hundred  thou 
sand  Washita  acres." 

"Eight  hundred  thousand  acres!"  This, 
between  sips  of  whisky:  "  That  should  take  a 
fortune!  Where  do  you  think  to  find  the 
money?  " 

"  It  will  come  from  New  York,  from  Con 
necticut,  from  New  Jersey,  from  everywhere — 
but  most  of  it  from  my  son-in-law,  Alston,  who 
is  to  mortgage  his  plantation  and  crops.  He  is 
worth  a  round  million." 

"How  do  you  succeed  with  the  English?" 
asks  Wilkinson,  taking  a  new  direction. 

:t  It  is  as  good  as  done.  Merry,  the  British 
Minister,  was  with  me  yesterday.  He  has  sent 
Colonel  Williamson  of  his  legation  to  London, 
to  return  by  way  of  Jamaica  and  bring  the  Eng 
lish  fleet  to  New  Orleans.  Truxton  is  to  be 
given  temporary  command,  and  sail  against  Vera 
Cruz,  where  you  and  I  must  meet  him  with  an 
army.  When  we  have  reduced  Vera  Cruz,  and 
secured  a  port,  we  shall  march  upon  the  city 
of  Mexico." 

Wilkinson    helps    himself    to    another   glass. 


AARON     I,     OF     MEXICO 

Then  he  rubs  his  encarmined  nose  with  a  rumina 
tive  forefinger. 

"  Well,"  he  observes,  "  it  will  be  a  great  ven 
ture  !  In  New  Orleans  I'll  make  you  acquainted 
with  Daniel  Clark,  an  Englishman,  who  has 
the  riches  and  almost  the  wisdom  of  Solomon. 
He'll  embrace  the  enterprise ;  once  he  does  he'll 
back  it  with  his  dollars.  Clark  himself  is  strong 
in  ships;  with  his  merchant  fleet  and  his  ware 
houses,  he  should  keep  us  in  provisions  in  Vera 
Cruz." 

'  That  is  well  bethought,"  cries  Aaron,  eyes 
a-sparkle. 

"  Clark's  relations  with  the  bishop  are  like 
wise  close,"  adds  Wilkinson. 

Taking  a  pull  at  the  whisky,  he  runs  off  in 
a  fresh  direction. 

"  Give  me  your  scheme  in  detail.  We  are 
not,  I  trust,  to  waste  time  with  a  claptrap  de 
mocracy,  nor  engage  in  the  popular  tomfoolery 
of  a  republic?  " 

'  The  government,  imperial  in  form,  shall 
be  styled  the  *  Empire  of  Mexico.'  I  shall  be 
crowned  Emperor  Aaron  I,  and  the  crown  made 
hereditary  in  the  male  line ;  which  last  will  create 
my  grandson,  Aaron  Burr  Alston,  heir  presump- 


237 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

"And  I?"  interjects  Wilkinson,  his  features 
doubly  aglow  with  alcohol  and  interest.  "  What 
are  to  be  my  rank  and  powers?  " 

"  You  will  be  generalissimo  of  the  army." 

"  Second  only  to  you?  " 

"  Second  only  to  me.  Here;  I've  drawn  an 
outline  of  the  civil  fabric  we're  to  set  up.  The 
government,  as  I've  said,  is  to  be  imperial,  my 
self  emperor.  There  is  to  be  a  nobility  of  gran 
dees,  titles  hereditary,  who  will  sit  as  a  par 
liament.  The  noble  programme  is  this :  Aaron  I, 
emperor;  Wilkinson,  generalissimo  of  the 
forces;  Alston,  chief  of  the  grandees  and  sec 
retary  of  state;  Theo,  chief  lady  of  the  court 
and  princess  mother  of  the  heir  presumptive; 
Aaron  Burr  Alston,  heir  presumptive ;  Truxton, 
lord  high  admiral  of  the  fleet.  There  will  be 
ambassadors,  ministers,  consuls,  and  the  usual 
furniture  of  government.  The  grandees  should 
be  limited  to  one  hundred,  and  chosen  from 
those  whom  we  bring  with  us.  There  may  be 
minor  noble  grades,  drawn  from  ones  powerful 
and  friendly  among  the  natives." 

Aaron  and  Wilkinson  of  the  carnelian  nose  sit 
far  into  the  watches  of  the  night,  discussing  the 
great  design.  As  the  carnelianed  one  takes  his 
leave,  he  says: 

238 


AARON     I,     OF     MEXICO 

"  We  are  fully  agreed,  I  find.  To-morrow 
I  start  for  Natchez;  you  are  to  follow  in  two 
weeks,  you  say?  " 

"  Yes,"  responds  Aaron.  "  There  should  be 
months  of  travel  ahead,  before  my  arrangements 
are  perfected.  I  must  meet  Adair  in  Kentucky, 
Smith  in  Ohio,  Harrison  in  Indiana,  Jackson  in 
Tennessee;  besides  visit  New  Orleans,  and  ar 
range  about  those  eight  hundred  thousand 
Washita  acres.  In  my  running  about,  I  shall 
see  you  many  times,  and  confer  with  you  as 
questions  come  up." 

"  I  shall  meet  you  at  Fort  Massac  on  the 
Ohio.  Don't  forget  two  several  matters :  The 
enterprise  will  lick  up  gold  like  fire.  Also,  that 
in  the  civil  as  well  as  the  military  control  of  the 
empire,  I'm  to  be  second  to  no  one  save  your 
self." 

"  I  shall  forget  nothing.  Speaking  of  money, 
I  sell  Richmond  Hill  to-morrow  for  twenty- 
five  thousand  dollars.  The  deeds  are  drawn  and 
signed." 

"  Oh,  we  shall  find  money  enough,"  returns 
Wilkinson  contentedly.  "  Only  it's  well  never 
to  lose  sight  of  the  fact  that  we're  going  to  need 
it.  Clark,  as  I  say,  will  plunge  in  for  some 
thing  handsome — something  that  should  call 
239 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

for  six  figures  in  its  measure.  As  to  my  rank 
of  generalissimo,  second  only  to  yourself,  it  is 
all  I  could  ask.  Popularly,"  concludes  Wil 
kinson,  preparing  to  take  his  leave — "  popu 
larly,  I  shall  be  known  as  '  Wilkinson  the  Deliv 
erer.'  Coming,  as  I  shall,  at  the  head  of  those 
gallant  conquering  armies  which  are  to  relieve 
the  groaning  Mexicans  from  the  yoke  of  Spain, 
I  think  it  a  natural  and  an  appropriate  title — 
1  Wilkinson  the  Deliverer!'" 

"  Not  only  an  appropriate  title,"  observes  the 
courtly  Aaron,  who  remembers  his  generalissi 
mo's  recent  loyalty  to  the  whisky  bottle,  "  but 
admirably  adapted  to  fill  the  trump  of  fame." 

The  door  closes  on  the  broad  back  of  the 
coming  "  Deliverer."  As  Aaron  again  bends 
over  his  "  Empire,"  he  hears  that  personage's 
footsteps,  uncertain  by  virtue  of  much  drink, 
and  proudly  martial  at  the  glorious  prospect 
before  him,  go  shuffling  down  the  corridor  of  the 
Indian  Queen. 

uBah!"  mutters  Aaron;  "Jack  Swartwout 
was  right.  It  is  both  dangerous  and  disgusting 
to  build  a  great  design  on  the  trustless  founda 
tion  of  this  conceited,  treacherous  sot.  And 
yet,  such  is  the  irony  of  my  situation,  I  am  un 
able  to  do  otherwise.  At  that,  I  shall  manage 
240 


AARON     I,     OF     MEXICO 

him.  Oh,  if  Jefferson  were  only  of  the  right 
viking  sort !  But,  no ;  a  creature  of  abstractions, 
bookshelves  and  alcoves! — a  closet  philosopher 
in  whose  veins  runs  no  drop  of  red  aggressive 
fighting  blood! — he  would  as  soon  think  of 
treason  as  of  conquest,  and,  indeed,  might  read 
ily  fall  into  the  error  of  imagining  they  spell  the 
same  thing.  Besides,  he  hates  me  for  that  presi 
dential  tie  of  four  years  ago.  The  plain  off 
spring  of  his  own  unpopularity,  he  none  the  less 
leaves  it  on  my  doorstep  as  the  natural  child 
of  my  intrigues.  No !  I  must  watch  Jefferson, 
not  trust  him.  His  judgment  is  ever  valet  to 
his  hatreds.  He  would  call  the  most  innocent 
act  a  crime,  prove  white  black,  for  the  privilege 
of  making  Aaron  Burr  an  outlaw." 


17 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

THE    TREASON   OF    WILKINSON 

NOW  begin  days  crowded  of  new  faces 
and  new  scenes.  Aaron  ascends  the 
Potomac,  and  crosses  the  mountains 
to  Pittsburg.  He  buys  a  cabined  flatboat  and 
floats  down  to  Marietta.  They  tell  him  of  Blen- 
nerhassett,  romantic,  eccentric,  living  on  an  isl 
and  below.  He  visits  the  island;  the  lord  of 
the  isle  is  absent,  but  his  spouse,  broad,  thick, 
genial,  not  beautiful,  welcomes  him  and  bids 
him  come  again. 

Aaron  goes  to  Cincinnati,  and  confers  with 
Senator  Smith;  to  Louisville,  where  he  meets 
General  Adair;  then  cross  country  to  Nashville 
to  find  General  Jackson — his  friend  of  a  Senate 
day  when  he,  Aaron,  served  colleague  to  the 
kiln-dried  Rufus  King. 

Everywhere  Aaron  is  the  honored  guest  at 
barbecue  and  banquet.  Processions  march ;  balls 
are  given  to  his  glory.  There  are  roasting  of 
242 


TREASON     OF    WILKINSON 

oxen,  drinking  of  corn  whisky,  rosining  of  bows 
and  scraping  of  catgut;  and  all  after  the  hearty 
fashion  of  the  West,  when  once  it  gets  a  hero 
in  its  clutches. 

To  Adair  and  Smith  and  the  lean  Jackson, 
Aaron  lays  out  his  purpose  of  Southwestern  con 
quest.  These  stark  worthies  go  with  him  heart 
and  soul.  Each  hates  the  Spaniard  with  a  Sax 
on's  hate;  each  is  a  Francis  Drake  at  bottom. 
Their  hot  concern  in  what  he  is  upon,  fairly 
overruns  the  verbal  pace  of  Aaron  in  its  tell 
ing.  Only,  he  is  half-secret,  and  does  not  make 
clear  those  elements  of  throne  and  crown 
and  scepter.  It  will  leave  them  less  over  which 
to  hesitate,  he  thinks;  for  he  perceives  that 
he  deals  with  folk  who  are  congenital  repub 
licans. 

The  lean  Jackson,  even  more  heartily  than  )/ 
do  the  others,  enters  into  Aaron's  plans.  He 
declares  that  the  best  blood  of  Tennessee  shall 
follow  him.  In  the  long  talks  they  have  at 
the  Hermitage,  Aaron  implants  in  Jackson 
a  Southwestern  impulse  which,  in  its  deeds, 
will  find  victorious  culmination  thirty  years 
later  at  San  Jacinto.  In  that  day,  Jackson 
himself  will  occupy  the  chair  now  held  by 
Jefferson. 

243 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

Being  no  prophet,  but  only  a  restless,  strong, 
ambitious  man,  Aaron  does  not  foresee  that  day 
of  Jackson  in  the  White  House,  San  Jacinto, 
and  Sam  Houston — the  latter  just  now  a  lad 
of  thirteen,  and  hidden  away  in  his  ancestral 
woods.  Full  of  hope,  Aaron  goes  diligently 
forward  with  his  sowing,  the  harvest  whereof 
those  others  are  to  reap.  He  lays  the  bed 
plates  of  an  empire  truly;  but  not  his  empire 
— not  the  empire  of  Aaron  I,  with  Aaron  II 
to  follow  him.  He  will  be  tottering  on  the 
grave's  edge  in  a  day  of  San  Jacinto;  and  yet 
his  age-chilled  heart  will  warm  at  the  news  of 
it,  and  know  it  for  his  work. 

Aaron  leaves  Jackson,  drifts  down  the  Cum 
berland  to  the  Ohio,  and  meets  Wilkinson,  who 
— nose  as  red,  with  whisky-fuddled  soul — is  as 
much  in  ardent  arms  as  ever.  Wilkinson  can 
not  greet  him  too  warmly.  The  only  change  per 
ceivable  in  our  corn-soaked  warrior  is  a  doubt 
as  to  whether,  instead  of  "  Wilkinson  the  De 
liverer,"  he  might  not  better  fill  the  wondering 
measure  of  futurity  as  u  Washington  of  the 
West."  Both  titles  are  full  of  majesty — a  thing 
important  to  a  taste  streaked  of  rum — but  the 
latter  possesses  the  more  alliterative  roll.  The 
red-nosed  Wilkinson  says  finally  that  he  will 
244 


TREASON     OF    WILKINSON 

keep  the  question  of  title  in  abeyance,  commit 
ting  himself  to  neither,  with  a  possibility  of 
adopting  both. 

Aaron  regains  his  cabined  flatboat,  and  fol 
lows  the  current  eight  hundred  miles  to  Natchez. 
Later  he  drifts  away  to  New  Orleans.  The 
latter  city  is  a  bubbling  community  of  nine  thou 
sand  souls — American,  Spanish,  French.  It 
runs  as  socially  wild  over  Aaron  as  did  those 
ruder,  up-the-river  regions;  although,  proving 
its  civilization,  it  scrapes  a  more  delicate  fiddle 
and  declines  the  greasy  barbecue  enormities  of 
a  whole  roast  ox. 

The  Englishman  Clark  strikes  hands  with 
Aaron  for  the  coming  empire.  It  is  agreed  that, 
with  rank  next  to  son-in-law  Alston's,  Clark 
shall  be  of  the  grandees.  Also,  Aaron  makes 
the  acquaintance  of  the  Bishop  of  New  Orleans, 
and  the  pair  dispatch  three  Jesuit  brothers  to 
Mexico  to  spy  out  the  land.  For  the  Spanish 
rule,  as  rapacious  as  tyrannous,  has  not  fostered 
the  Church,  but  robbed  it.  Under  Aaron  I,  the 
Church  shall  not  only  be  protected,  but  become 
the  national  Church. 

Leaving  New  Orleans,  Aaron  returns  by  an 
old  Indian  trace  to  Nashville,  keeping  during 
the  journey  a  sharp  lookout  for  banditti  who 
245 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

rob  and  kill  along  the  trail.  Coming  safe,  he  is 
welcomed  by  the  lean  Jackson,  whom  he  sets 
building  bateaux  for  conveying  the  Tennessee 
contingent  to  the  coming  work. 

Leaving  Jackson  busy  with  saw  and  adz  and 
auger  over  flatboats,  Aaron  heads  north  for  the 
island  dwelling  of  Blennerhassett.  In  the  fort 
night  he  spends  with  that  muddled  exile,  he  wins 
him — life  and  fortune.  Blennerhassett  is  weak, 
forceless,  a  creature  of  dreams.  Under  spell  of 
the  dominating  Aaron,  he  sees  with  the  eyes, 
speaks  with  the  mouth,  feels  with  the  heart  of 
that  strong  ambitious  one.  Blennerhassett  will 
be  a  grandee.  As  such  he  must  go  to  England, 
ambassador  for  the  Empire  of  Mexico,  bearing 
the  letters  of  Aaron  I.  He  takes  joy  in  pictur 
ing  himself  at  the  court  of  St.  James,  and  hears 
with  the  ear  of  anticipation  the  exclamatory  ad 
miration  of  his  Irish  friends. 

"  Ay!  they'll  change  their  tune!  "  cries  Blen 
nerhassett,  as  he  considers  his  greatness  to  come. 
"  It  should  open  their  Irish  eyes,  for  sure,  when 
they  meet  me  as  *  Don  Blennerhassett,  grandee 
of  the  Mexican  Empire,  Ambassador  to  St. 
James  by  favor  of  his  Imperial  Majesty, 
Aaron  I.'  It'll  cause  my  surly  kinfolk  to  sing 
out  of  the  other  corners  of  their  mouths;  for 
246 


HARMAN  BLENNERHASSET 

After  a  miniature  made  in  Europe  about  1795. 


TREASON     OF    WILKINSON 

I  cannot  remember  that  they've  been  over-re 
spectful  to  me  in  the  past." 

Aaron  recrosses  the  mountains,  and  descends 
the  Potomac  to  Washington.  He  dines  with 
Jefferson,  and  relates  his  adventures,  but  hides 
his  plans.  No  whisper  of  empire  and  emperors 
at  the  great  democrat's  table!  Aaron  is  not 
so  horn-mad  as  all  that. 

While  Aaron  is  in  Washington,  the  stubborn 
Swartwout  comes  over.  As  the  fruits  of  the 
conference  between  him  and  his  chief,  the  stub 
born  one  returns,  and  sends  his  brother  Samuel, 
young  Ogden,  and  Dr.  Bollman  to  Blennerhas- 
sett.  Also,  the  lustrous  Theo  and  little  Aaron 
Burr  Alston  join  Aaron;  for  the  princess  mother 
of  the  heir  presumptive,  as  well  as  the  sucking 
emperor  himself,  is  to  go  with  Aaron  when 
he  again  heads  for  the  West.  There  will  be  no 
return — the  lustrous  Theo  and  the  heir  presump 
tive  are  to  accompany  the  expedition  of  con 
quest.  Son-in-law  Alston,  who  will  be  chief  of 
the  grandees  and  secretary  of  state,  promises  to 
follow  later.  Just  now  he  is  trying  to  negotiate 
a  loan  on  his  plantations;  and  making  slow  work 
of  it,  because  of  Jefferson's  interference  with 
the  exportation  of  rice. 


247 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

Madam  Blennerhassett  welcomes  the  princess 
mother  with  wide  arms,  and  kisses  the  heir  pre 
sumptive.  Aaron  decides  to  make  the  island 
a  present  headquarters.  Leaving  the  lustrous 
Theo  and  the  heir  presumptive  to  Madam  Blen 
nerhassett,  he  indulges  in  swift,  darting  jour 
neys,  west  and  north  and  south.  He  arranges 
for  fifteen  bateaux,  each  to  carry  one  hundred 
men,  at  Marietta.  He  crosses  to  Nashville  to 
talk  with  Jackson,  and  note  the  progress  of  that 
lean  filibusterer  with  the  Cumberland  flotilla. 
What  he  sees  so  pleases  him  that  he  leaves 
four  thousand  dollars — a  royal  sum! — with 
the  lean  Jackson,  to  meet  initial  charges  in  out 
fitting  the  Tennessee  wing  of  the  great  enter 
prise. 

Aaron  goes  to  Chillicothe  and  talks  to  the 
Governor  of  Ohio.  Returning,  he  drops  over 
to  the  little  huddle  of  huts  called  Cannonsburg. 
There  he  forms  the  acquaintance  of  an  honest, 
uncouth  personage  named  Morgan,  who  is  eaten 
up  of  patriotism  and  suspicion.  Morgan  listens 
to  Aaron,  and  decides  that  he  is  a  firebrand  of 
treason  about  to  set  the  Ohio  valley  in  a  blaze. 
He  writes  these  flaming  fears  to  Jefferson — 
as  suspicious  as  any  Morgan! 

Having  aroused  Morgan  the  wrong  way, 
248 


TREASON     OF     WILKINSON 

Aaron  descends  to  New  Orleans  and  makes  pay 
ment  on  those  eight  hundred  thousand  acres 
along  the  Washita.  Following  this  real  estate 
transaction,  he  hunts  up  the  whisky-reddened 
Wilkinson,  and  offers  a  suggestion.  As  com-  , 
mander  in  chief,  Wilkinson  might  march  a 
brigade  into  the  Spanish  country  on  the  Sabine, 
and  tease  and  tempt  the  Castilians  into  a  clash. 
Aaron  argues  that,  once  a  brush  occurs  between 
the  Spaniards  and  the  United  States,  a  war  fury 
will  seize  the  country,  and  furnish  an  admirable 
background  of  sentiment  for  his  own  descent 
upon  Mexico.  Wilkinson,  full  of  bottle  valor, 
receives  Aaron's  suggestion  with  rapture,  and 
starts  for  the  Sabine.  Wilkinson  safely  off  for 
the  Sabine,  to  bring  down  the  desired  trouble, 
Aaron  again  pushes  up  for  Blennerhassett  and 
that  exile's  island. 

While  these  important  matters  are  being  thus 
set  moving  war-wise,  the  soft-witted  Blenner-  -f 
hassett  is  not  idle.  He  writes  articles  for  the 
papers,  descriptive  of  Mexico,  which  he  pictures 
as  a  land  flowing  with  milk  and  honey.  During 
gaps  in  his  milk-and-honey  literature,  the  coming 
ambassador  buys  pork  and  flour  and  corn  and 
beans,  and  stores  them  on  the  island.  They  are 
to  feed  the  expedition,  when  it  shoves  forth 
249 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

upon  the  broad  Ohio  in  those  fifteen  Marietta 
bateaux. 

Aaron  gets  back  to  the  island.  Accompanied 
by  the  lustrous  Theo  and  Blennerhassett,  he  goes 
to  Lexington.  While  there,  word  reaches  him 
that  Attorney  Daviess,  acting  for  the  govern 
ment  by  request  of  Jefferson,  has  moved  the 
court  at  Frankfort  for  an  order  "  commanding 
the  appearance  of  Aaron  Burr."  The  letter 
of  the  suspicious  Morgan  to  the  suspicious  Jef 
ferson  has  fallen  like  seed  upon  good  ground. 

Aaron  does  not  wait;  taking  with  him  Henry 
Clay  as  counsel,  he  repairs  to  Frankfort  as  rap 
idly  as  blue  grass  horseflesh  can  travel.  Going 
into  court,  Aaron,  with  Henry  Clay,  routs  At 
torney  Daviess,  who  intimates  but  does  not 
charge  treason.  The  judge,  the  grand  jury,  and 
the  public  give  their  sympathies  to  Aaron;  fol 
lowing  his  exoneration,  they  promote  a  ball  in 
his  honor. 

Recruits  begin  to  gather;  the  fifteen  Marietta 
bateaux  approach  completion.  Aaron  dispatches 
Samuel  Swartwout  and  young  Ogden  with  let 
ters  to  the  red-nosed,  necessary  Wilkinson,  mak 
ing  mad  the  Spaniards  on  the  Sabine.  Also 
Adair  and  Bollman  take  boat  for  New  Orleans. 
When  Swartwout  and  young  Ogden  have  de- 
250 


TREASON     OF    WILKINSON 

parted,   Aaron  resumes  his   Marietta  prepara 
tions,  urging  speed  with  those  bateaux. 

Swartwout  reaches  the  red-nosed  Wilkinson, 
and  delivers  Aaron's  letters.  These  missives  find 
the  red-nosed  one  in  a  mixed  mood.  His  cow 
ardice  and  native  genius  for  treachery,  acting 
lately  in  concert,  have  built  up  doubts  within 
him.  There  are  bodily  perils,  sure  to  attend5 
upon  the  conquest  of  Mexico,  which  the  red- 
nosed  one  now  hesitates  to  face.  Why  should 
he  face  them  ?  Would  he  not  get  as  much  from 
Jefferson  for  betraying  Aaron?  He  might,  by 
ajittle  dexterous  mendacity,  make  the  credulous 
Jefferson  believe  that  Aaron  meditates  a  blow,j 
not  at  Mexico  but  the  United  States.  It  woulcf 
permit  him,  the  red-nosed  one,  to  pose  as  thd 
saviour  of  his  country.  And  as  the  acknowlj 
edged  saviour  of  his  country,  what  might  not  hq  ; 
demand? — what  might  not  he  receive?  Surely, 
a  saved  country,  even  a  saved  republic,  would 
not  be  ungrateful! 

The  red-nosed  one's  genius  for  treachery  be 
ing  thus  addressed,  he  sends  posthaste  to  Jef 
ferson.      He   warns   him   that   a    movement   is  I 
abroad  to  break  up  the  Union.     Every  State  'j  +• 
west  of  the  Alleghenies  is  to  be  in  the  revolt.^ 
Thus   declares   the  treacherous   red-nosed  one, 
251 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

who  thinks  it  the  shorter  cut  to  that  coveted 
title,  "  Wilkinson  the  Deliverer,  Washington 
of  the  West."  Besides,  there  will  be  the  glory 
and  sure  emolument !  Wilkinson  the  red-nosed, 
thinks  on  these  things  as  he  goes  plunging  Aaron 
and  his  scheme  of  empire  into  ruin. 

While  these  wonders  are  working  in  the 
West,  Aaron,  wrapped  in  ignorance  concerning 
them,  is  driving  matters  with  a  master's  hand 
at  Marietta  and  the  island.  The  fifteen  ba 
teaux  are  still  unfinished,  when  he  resolves,  with 
sixty  of  his  people,  to  go  down  to  Natchez. 
There  are  matters  which  call  to  him  in  connec 
tion  with  those  Washita  eight  hundred  thousand 
acres.  Besides,  he  desires  a  final  word  with  the 
red-nosed  Wilkinson. 

At  Bayou  Pierre,  a  handful  of  miles  above 
Natchez,  Aaron  hears  of  a  Jefferson  proclama 
tion.  The  news  touches  his  heart  as  with  a  fin 
ger  of  frost.  Folk  say  the  proclamation  recites 
incipient  treason  in  the  States  west  of  the  Alle- 
ghenies,  and  warns  all  men  not  to  engage  there 
in  on  peril  of  their  necks.  About  the  same  time 
comes  word  that  the  red-nosed,  treacherous  Wil 
kinson  has  caused  the  arrest  of  Adair,  Dr.  Boll- 
man,  Samuel  Swartwout,  and  young  Ogden,  and 
shipped  them,  per  schooner,  to  Baltimore,  to 
252 


TREASON     OF    WILKINSON 

answer  as  open  traitors  to  the  State.  Aaron 
requires  all  his  fortitude  to  command  himself. 

The  Governor  of  Mississippi  grows  excited; 
he  feels  the  heroic  need  of  doing  something. 
He  hoarsely  orders  out  certain  companies  of 
militia;  after  which  he  calls  into  counsel  his 
attorney  general. 

The  latter  potentate  advises  eloquence  before 
powder  and  ball.  He  believes  that  treason, 
black  and  lowering,  is  abroad,  the  country's  in 
tegrity  threatened  by  the  demonaic  Aaron.  Still, 
he  has  faith  in  his  own  sublime  powers  as  an 
orator.  He  tells  the  governor  that  he  can  talk 
the  treason-mongering  Aaron  into  tameness.  At 
this  the  governor — nobly  willing  to  risk  and,  if 
need  press,  sacrifice  his  attorney  general  on  the 
altars  of  a  common  good — bids  him  try  what 
he  can  eloquently  do. 

The  confident  attorney  general  goes  to  Aaron, 
where  that  would-be  conqueror  is  lying,  at 
Bayou  Pierre.  He  sets  forth  what  a  fatal 
mistake  it  would  be,  were  Aaron  to  lock  mili 
tary  horns  with  the  puissant  territory  of  Mis 
sissippi.  Common  prudence,  he  says,  dictates 
that  Aaron  surrender  without  a  struggle,  and 
come  into  court  and  be  tried. 

Aaron   makes  not  the  least  objection.     He 

253 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

goes  with  the  attorney  general,  and,  pending 
investigation  by  the  grand  jurors,  is  enthusias 
tically  bailed  by  rich  planters  of  the  region, 
who  sign  for  ten  thousand  dollars. 

The  grand  jurors,  following  the  example  of 
those  others  of  the  blue  grass,  find  Aaron  an 

X  innocent,   ill-used   individual.     They   order  his 

honorable  release,  and  then  devote  themselves, 
with  heartfelt  diligence,  to  indicting  the  gov 
ernor  for  illicitly  employing  the  militia.  Cool 
counsel  intervenes,  however,  and  the  grand 
jurors,  not  without  difficulty,  are  convinced  that 
the  governor  intended  no  wrong.  Thereupon 
they  content  themselves  with  grimly  warning 
that  official  to  hereafter  let  "  honest  settlers  " 
coming  into  the  country  alone.  Having  dis 
charged  their  duty  in  the  premises,  the  grand 
jurors  lapse  into  private  life  and  the  governor 
draws  a  long  breath  of  relief. 

Aaron  procures  a  copy  of  Jefferson's  anti- 
treason  proclamation.  The  West  will  snap  de 
risive  fingers  at  it;  but  New  England  and  the 
East  are  sure  to  be  set  on  edge.  The  proclama 
tion  itself  is  enough  to  cripple  his  enterprise  of 
empire.  Added  to  the  treachery  of  the  red- 
nosed  Wilkinson,  it  makes  such  empire  for  the 
nonce  impossible.  The  proclamation  does  not 
254 


TREASON     OF    WILKINSON 

name  him;  but  Aaron  knows  that  the  dullest 
mind  between  the  oceans  will  supply  the  omis 
sion. 

There  is  nothing  else  for  it.  The  mere 
thought  is  gall  and  wormwood;  and  yet  Aaron's 
dream  must  vanish  before  what  stubborn  condi 
tions  confront  him. 

As  a  best  move  toward  extricating  himself 
from  the  tangle  into  which  the  perfidy  of  the 
red-nosed  one  has  forced  him,  Aaron  decides  to 
go  to  Washington.  He  informs  the  leading 
spirits  about  him  of  his  purpose,  mounts  the 
finest  horse  to  be  had  for  money,  and  sets  out. 

It  is  a  week  later.  One  Perkins  meets  Aaron 
at  the  Alabama  village  of  Wakeman.  The 
thoroughbred  air  of  the  man  on  the  thorough 
bred  horse  sets  Perkins  to  thinking.  After  ten 
minutes'  study,  Perkins  is  flooded  of  a  great 
light. 

"Aaron  Burr!"  he  cries,  and  rushes  off  to 
Fort  Stoddart. 

Perkins,  out  of  breath,  tells  his  news  to  Cap 
tain  Gaines.  Two  hours  later,  as  Aaron  comes 
riding  down  a  hill,  he  is  met  by  Captain  Gaines 
and  a  sober  file  of  soldiers. 

The  captain  salutes: 

"  You  are  Colonel  Burr,"  he  says.     "  I  arrest 

255 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

you  by  order  of  President  Jefferson.  You  must 
go  with  me  to  Fort  Stoddart,  where  you  will  be 
treated  with  the  respect  due  one  who  has  honor 
ably  filled  the  second  highest  post  of  Govern 
ment." 

"  Sir,"  responds  Aaron,  unruffled  and  supe 
rior,  "  I  am  Colonel  Burr.  I  yield  myself  your 
prisoner;  since,  with  the  force  at  your  com 
mand,  it  is  not  possible  to  do  otherwise." 

Aaron  rides  with  Captain  Gaines  to  the  fort. 
As  the  two  dismount  at  the  captain's  quarters, 
a  beautiful  woman  greets  them. 

'  This  is  my  wife,  Colonel  Burr,"  says  Cap 
tain  Gaines.  Then,  to  Madam  Gaines :  "  Colo 
nel  Burr  will  be  our  guest  at  dinner." 

Aaron,  the  captain,  and  the  beautiful  Madam 
Gaines  go  in  to  dinner.  Two  sentries  with  fixed 
bayonets  march  and  countermarch  before  the 
door.  Aaron  beholds  in  them  the  sign  visible 
that  his  program  of  empire,  which  has  cost  him 
so  much  and  whereon  his  hopes  were  builded  so 
high,  is  forever  thrust  aside.  Smooth,  polished, 
deferential,  brilliant — the  beautiful  Madam 
Gaines  says  she  has  yet  to  meet  a  more  fascinat 
ing  man !  Aaron  is  never  more  steadily  com 
posed,  never  more  at  polite  ease  than  now  when 
power  and  empire  vanish  for  all  time. 

256 


TREASON    OF    WILKINSON 

"  You  appreciate  my  position,  sir,"  says  Cap 
tain  Gaines,  as  they  rise  from  the  table.  "  I 
trust  you  do  not  blame  me  for  performing  my 
duty." 

"  Sir,"  returns  Aaron,  with  an  acquiescent 
bow,  "  I  blame  only  the  hateful,  thick  stupidity 
of  Jefferson,  and  my  own  criminal  dullness  in 
trusting  a  scoundrel." 


18 


CHAPTER   XIX 

HOW   AARON   IS    INDICTED 

IT  is  evening  at  the  White  House.  The  few 
dinner  guests  have  departed,  and  Jefferson 
is  alone  in  his  study.  As  he  stands  at  the 
open  window,  and  gazes  out  across  the  sweep 
of  lawn  to  the  Potomac,  shining  like  silver  in 
the  rays  of  the  full  May  moon,  his  face  is 
cloudy  and  angry.  The  face  of  the  sage  of 
Monticello  has  put  aside  its  usual  expression  of 
philosophy.  In  place  of  the  calm  that  should 
reign  there,  the  look  which  prevails  is  one  of 
narrowness,  prejudice  and  wrathful  passion. 

Apparently,  he  waits  the  coming  of  a  visitor, 
for  he  wheels  without  surprise,  as  a  fashionably 
dressed  gentleman  is  ushered  in  by  a  servant. 

uAh,  Wirt!"  he  cries;  "be  seated,  please. 
You  got  my  note?  " 

William  Wirt  is  thirty-five — a  clean,  well- 
bred  example  of  the  conventional  Virginia  gen 
tleman.  He  accepts  the  proffered  chair;  but 

258 


HOW    AARON    IS    INDICTED 

with  the  manner  of  one  only  half  at  ease,  as  not 
altogether  liking  the  reason  of  his  White  House 
presence. 

"  Your  note,  Mr.  President?"  he  repeats. 
"  Oh,  yes;  I  received  it.  What  you  propose  is 
highly  flattering.  And  yet — and  yet " 

"  And  yet  what,  sir?  "  breaks  in  Jefferson  im 
patiently.  "  Surely,  I  propose  nothing  unusual? 
You  are  practicing  at  the  Richmond  bar.  I 
ask  you  to  conduct  the  case  against  Colonel 
Burr." 

"  Nothing  unusual,  of  course,"  returns  Wirt, 
who,  gifted  of  a  keen  political  eye,  hungrily 
foresees  a  final  attorney  generalship  in  what  he 
is  about.  "  And  yet,  as  I  was  about  to  say,  there 
are  matters  which  should  be  considered.  There 
is  George  Hay,  for  instance;  he  is  the  Govern 
ment's  attorney  for  the  Richmond  district.  It 
is  his  province  as  well  as  duty  to  prosecute 
Colonel  Burr;  he  might  resent  my  being  sad 
dled  upon  him.  Have  you  thought  of  Mr. 
Hay?" 

"Thought  of  him?  Hay  is  a  dullard,  a 
blockhead,  a  respectable  nonentity!  no  more  fit 
to  contend  with  Colonel  Burr  and  those  whom 
be  will  have  about  him,  than  would  be  a  sucking 
babe.  He  is  of  no  courage,  no  force,  sir;  he 
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AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

seems  to  think  that,  now  he  is  the  son-in-law 
of  James  Monroe,  he  has  done  quite  enough  to 
merit  success  in  both  law  and  politics.  No; 
there  is  much  depending  on  this  trial,  and  I  de 
sire  you  to  try  it.  Burr  must  be  convicted.  The 
black  Federal^plot  to  destroy  this  republic  and 
set  a  monarchy  in  its  stead,  a  plot  of  which 
he  himself  is  but  a  single  item,  must  be  nipped 
in  the  bud.  Moreover,  you  will  find  that  I  am 
to  be  on  trial  even  more  than  is  Colonel  Burr. 
The  case  will  not  be  *  The  People  against  Aaron 
Burr/  but  *  The  Federalists  against  Thomas 
Jefferson.'  Do  you  understand?  I  am  the  ob 
ject  of  a  Federal  plot,  as  much  as  is  the  Govern- 
'  ment  itself!  John  Marshall,  that  arch  Feder 
alist,  will  be  on  the  bench,  doing  all  he  can  for 
the  plotters  and  their  instrument,  Colonel  Burr. 
It  is  no  time  to  risk  myself  on  so  slender  a  sup 
port  as  George  Hay.  It  is  you  who  must  con 
duct  this  cause." 

Wirt  is  a  bit  scandalized  by  this  outburst; 
especially  at  the  reckless  dragging  in  of  Chief 
Justice  Marshall.  He  expostulates;  but  is  too 
much  the  courtier  to  let  any  harshness  creep  into 
either  his  manner  or  his  speech. 

"  You  surely  do  not  mean  to  say,"  he  begins, 

"  that  the  chief  justice " 

260 


HOW    AARON    IS    INDICTED 

"  I  mean  to  say,"  interrupts  Jefferson,  "  that 
you  must  be  ready  to  meet  every  trick  that  Mar 
shall  can  play  against  the  Government.  For  all 
his  black  robe,  is  he  of  different  clay  than  any 
other?  Believe  me,  he's  a  Federalist  long  be 
fore  he's  a  judge !  Let  me  ask  a  question :  Why 
did  Marshall,  the  chief  justice,  mind  you,  hold 
the  preliminary  examination  of  Burr?  Why, 
having  held  it,  did  he  not  commit  him  for  trea 
son?  Why  did  he  hold  him  only  for  a  mis 
demeanor,  and  admit  him  to  bail?  Does  not 
that  look  as  though  Marshall  had  taken  pos 
session  of  the  case  in  Burr's  interest?  You 
spoke  a  moment  ago  of  the  propriety  of  Hay 
prosecuting  the  charge  against  Burr,  being,  as 
he  is,  the  Government's  attorney  for  that  dis 
trict.  Does  not  it  occur  to  you  that  his  honor, 
Judge  Griffin,  is  the  judge  for  that  district? 
And  yet  Marshall  shoves  him  aside  to  make 
room  on  the  bench  for  himself.  Sir,  there  is 
chicanery  in  this.  We  must  watch  Marshall. 
A  chief  justice,  indeed!  A  chief  Federalist, 
rather!  Why,  he  even  so  much  lacked  self- 
respect  as  to  become  a  guest  at  a  dinner  given 
in.Colonel  Burr's  honor,  after  he  had  committed 
that  traitor  in  ten  thousand  dollars  bail!  An 
excellent,  a  dignified  chief  justice,  truly ! — doing 
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AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

dinner  table  honor  to  one  whom  he  must  pres 
ently  try  for  a  capital  offense !  " 

"  Justice  Marshall's  appearance  at  the  Burr 
dinner  " — Wirt  makes  the  admission  doubtfully 
— "  was  not,  I  admit,  in  the  very  flower  of  good 
taste.  None  the  less,  I  should  infer  honesty 
rather  than  baseness  from  such  appearance. 
If  he  contemplated  any  wrong  in  Colonel  Burr's 
favor,  he  would  have  remained  away.  Coming 
to  the  case  itself,"  says  Wirt,  anxious  to  avoid 
further  discussion  of  Judge  Marshall,  as  a 
topic  whereon  he  and  Jefferson  are  not  likely 
to  agree,  "  what  is  the  specific  act  of  treason 
with  which  the  Government  charges  Colonel 
Burr?" 

"  The    conspiracy,    wherein    he    was    prime 

\  mover,   aimed  first  to   take   Mexico   from,  the 

•   Spanish.     Having  taken  Mexico,  the  plotters — 

Colonel   Burr   at  the   head — purposed   seizing 

New  Orleans.    That  would  give  them  a  hold  in 

the    vast    region    drained   by   the    Mississippi. 

Everything  west  of  the  Alleghenies  was  expected 

to  flock  round  their  standards.    With  an  empire 

reaching  from  Darien  to  the  Great  Lakes,  from 

the  Pacific  to  the  Alleghenies,  their  final  move 

was  to  be  made  upon  Washington  itself.     Sir, 

the  Federalists  hate  this  republic — have  always 

262 


HOW    AARON    IS    INDICTED 

hated  it!  What  they  desire  is  a  monarchy. 
They  want  a  king,  not  a  president,  in  the  White 
House." 

"  I  learn,"  observes  Wirt — "  I  learn,  since 
my  arrival,  that  Colonel  Burr  has  been  in  Wash 
ington." 

"  That  was  three  days  ago.  He  demanded 
copies  of  my  orders  to  General  Wilkinson. 
When  I  prevented  his  obtaining  them,  he  said  he 
would  move  for  a  subpoena  duces  tecum,  ad 
dressed  to  me  personally.  Think  of  that,  sir! 
Can  you  conceive  of  greater  impudence?  He 
will  sue  out  a  subpoena  against  the  President  of 
this  country,  and  compel  him  to  come  into  court 
bringing  the  archives  of  Government !  " 

Wirt  shrugs  his  shoulders.  "  And  why  not, 
sir?  "  he  asks  at  last.  "  In  the  eye  of  the  law 
a  president  is  no  more  sacred  than  a  pathmaster. 
A  murder  might  be  committed  in  the  White 
House  grounds.  You,  looking  from  that  win 
dow,  might  chance  to  witness  it — might,  indeed, 
be  the  only  witness.  You  yourself  are  a  lawyer, 
Mr.  President.  You  will  not  tell  me  that  an 
innocent  man,  accused  of  murder,  is  to  be  denied 
your  testimony  ? — that  he  is  to  hang  rather  than 
ruffle  a  presidential  dignity?  What  is  the  dif 
ference  between  the  case  I've  supposed  and  that 
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AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

against  Colonel  Burr?  He  is  to  be  charged  with 
treason,  you  say !  Very  well ;  treason  is  a  hang 
ing  matter  as  much  as  murder." 

Jefferson  and  Wirt,  step  by  step,  go  over  the 
arrest  of  Aaron,  and  what  led  to  it.  It  is  settled 
that  Wirt  shall  control  for  the  prosecution. 
Also,  when  the  Grand  Jury  is  struck,  he  must 
see  to  it  that  Aaron  is  indicted  for  treason. 

"  Marshall  has  confined  the  inquiry,"  says 
Jefferson,  "  to  what  Burr  contemplated  against 
Mexico — a  mere  misdemeanor!  You,  Wirt, 
must  have  the  Grand  Jury  take  up  that  part  of 
the  conspiracy  which  was  leveled  against  this 
country.  There  is  abundant  testimony.  Burr 
talked  it  to  Eaton  in  Washington,  to  Morgan  in 
Ohio,  to  Wilkinson  at  Fort  Massac." 

"  You  speak  of  his  talking  treason,"  returns 
Wirt  with  a  thoughtful,  non-committal  air. 
"  Did  he  anywhere  or  on  any  occasion  act  it? 
Was  there  any  overt  act  of  war?  " 

;'  What  should  you  call  the  doings  at  Blenner- 
hassett  Island? — the  gathering  of  men  and 
stores? — the  boat-building  at  Marietta  and 
Nashville?  Are  not  those,  taken  with  the  in 
tention,  hostile  acts? — overt  acts  of  war?" 

Wirt  falls  into  deep  study.  "  We  must," 
she  says  after  a  moment's  silence,  "  leave  those 

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HOW    AARON    IS    INDICTED 

questions,  I  fear,  for  Justice  Marshall  to  de 
cide." 

Jefferson  relates  how  he  has  written  Governor 
Pinckney  of  South  Carolina,  advising  the  arrest 
of  Alston. 

'  To  be  sure,  Alston  is  not  so  bad  as  Colonel 
Burr,"  he  observes,  "  for  the  reason  that  he  is 
not  so  big  as  Colonel  Burr;  just  as  a  young  rat 
tlesnake  is  not  so  venomous  as  an  old  one." 
Then,  impressively:  "Wirt,  Colonel  Burr  is  a 
dangerous  man !  He  will  find  his  place  in  his 
tory  as  the  Catiline  of  America." 

Wirt  cannot  hide  a  smile.  "  It  is  but  fair  you 
should  say  so,  Mr.  President,  since  at  the  Rich 
mond  hearing  he  spoke  of  you  as  a  presiden 
tial  Jack  Straw."  Seeing  that  Jefferson  does  not 
enjoy  the  reference,  Wirt  hastens  to  another 
subject.  "  Colonel  Burr  will  have  formidable 
counsel.  Aside  from  Wickham,  and  Botts,  and 
Edmund  Randolph,  across  from  Maryland  will 
come  Luther  Martin." 

"  Luther  Martin!"  cries  Jefferson.  "So 
they  are  to  unloose  that  Federal  bulldog  against 
me !  But  then  the  whisky-swilling  beast  is  never 
sober." 

"  No  more  safe  as  an  adversary  for  that," 
retorts  Wirt.  "If  I  am  ever  called  upon  to 

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write  Luther  Martin's  epitaph,  I  shall  make  it 
'  Ever  drunk  and  ever  dangerous!  '  " 

On  the  bench  sits  Chief  Justice  Marshall — 
tall,  slender — eyes  as  black  as  Aaron's  own — 
face  high,  dignified — brow  noble,  full — the 
whole  man  breathing  distinction.  By  his  side, 
like  some  small  thing  lost  in  shadow,  no  one 
noticing  him,  no  one  addressing  him,  a  picture  of 
silent  humility,  sits  District  Judge  Griffin. 

For  the  Government  comes  Wirt,  sneering, 
harsh — as  cold  and  hard  and  fine  and  keen  as 
thrice-tempered  steel.  With  him  is  Hay — slow, 
pompous,  of  much  respectability  and  dull  weak 
ness.  Assisting  Wirt  and  Hay  and  filling  a 
minor  place,  is  one  McRae. 

Leading  for  the  defense,  is  Aaron  himself — 
confident,  unshaken.  Already  he  has  begun  to 
relay  his  plans  of  Mexican  conquest.  He  assures 
Blennerhassett,  who  is  with  him,  that  the  present 
interruption  should  mean  no  more  than  a  time- 
waste  of  six  months.  With  Aaron  sit  Edmund 
Randolph,  the  local  Nestor;  Wickham,  clear, 
sure  of  law  and  fact;  and  Botts,  the  Bayard  of 
the  Richmond  bar.  Most  formidable  is  Aaron's 
rear  guard,  the  thunderous  Luther  Martin — 
coarse,  furious,  fearless — gay  clothes  stained 
266 


HOW    AARON    IS    INDICTED 

and  soiled — ruffles  foul  and  grimy — eye  fierce, 
bleary,  bloodshot — nose  bulbous,  red  as  a  car 
buncle—a  hoarse,  roaring,  threatening  voice — 
the  Thersites  of  the  hour.  Never  sober,  he  rolls 
into  court  as  drunk  as  a  Plantagenet.  Ever  dan 
gerous,  he  reads,  hears,  sees  everything,  and 
forgets  nothing.  Quick,  rancorous,  headlong 
as  a  fighting  bull,  he  lowers  his  horns  against 
Wirt,  whenever  that  polished  one  puts  himself 
within  forensic  reach.  Also,  for  all  his  cool, 
sneering  skill,  Toreador  Wirt  never  meets  the 
charge  squarely,  but  steps  aside  from  it. 

Apropos  of  nothing,  as  Martin  takes  his  place 
by  the  trial  table,  he  roars  out: 

"Why  is  this  trial  ordered  for  Richmond? 
Why  is  it  not  heard  in  Washington?  It  is  by 
command  of  Jefferson,  sir.  He  thinks  that  in 
his  own  State  of  Virginia,  where  he  is  invincible 
and  Colonel  Burr  a  stranger,  the  name  of  '  Jef 
ferson  '  will  compel  a  verdict  of  guilt.  There  is 
fairness  for  you !  " 

Wirt  glances  across,  but  makes  no  response 
to  the  tirade;  for  Martin,  purple  of  face,  snort 
ing  ferociously,  seems  only  waiting  a  word  from 
him  to  utter  worse  things. 

The  Grand  Jury  is  chosen:  foreman,  John 
Randolph  of  Roanoke — sour,  inimical,  hateful, 
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AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

voice  high  and  spiteful  like  the  voice  of  a  scold 
ing  woman !  The  Grand  Jury  is  sent  to  its  room 
to  deliberate  as  to  indictments,  while  the  court 
adjourns  for  the  day. 

It  is  well  into  the  evening  when  the  parties  in 
interest  leave  the  courtroom.  As  Wirt  and 
Hay,  arm  in  arm,  are  crossing  the  courthouse 
green,  they  become  aware  of  an  orator  who,  loud 
of  tone  and  careless  of  his  English,  is  addressing 
a  crowd  from  the  steps  of  a  corner  grocery. 
Just  as  the  two  arrive  within  earshot,  the  ora 
tor,  lean,  hawklike  of  face,  tosses  aloft  a  rake- 
handle  arm,  and  shouts : 

"  When  Jefferson  says  that  Colonel  Burr  is  a 
traitor,  Jefferson  lies  in  his  throat!  "  The 
crowd  applaud  enthusiastically. 

Hay  looks  at  Wirt.  "  Who  is  the  fellow?  " 
he  asks. 

"  Oh !  he's  a  swashbuckler  militia  general," 
returns  Wirt,  carelessly.  "  He's  a  low  fellow, 
I'm  told;  his  name  is  Andrew  Jackson.  He  was 
one  of  Colonel  Burr's  confederates.  They  say 
he's  the  greatest  blackguard  in  Tennessee." 

Just  now,  did  some  Elijah  touch  the  Wirtian 

elbow  and  tell  of  a  day  to  come  when  he,  Wirt, 

will  be  driven  to  resign  that  coveted  attorney 

generalship  into  the  presidential  hands  of  the 

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HOW    AARON    IS    INDICTED 

"  blackguard,"  who  will  receive  it  promptly, 
and  dismiss  him  into  private  life  no  more  than 
half  thanked  for  what  public  service  he  has  ren 
dered,  the  ambitious  Virginian  would  hold  the 
soothsayer  to  be  a  madman,  not  a  prophet. 

Scores  upon  scores  of  witnesses  are  sent  one 
by  one  to  the  Grand  Jury.  The  days  run  into 
weeks.  Every  hour  the  question  is  asked: 
"  Where  is  Wilkinson?"  The  red-nosed  one 
is  strangely,  exasperatingly  absent. 

Wirt  seeks  to  explain  that  absence.  The  jour 
ney  is  long,  he  says.  He  will  pledge  his  honor 
for  the  red-nosed  one's  appearance. 

Meanwhile  the  friends  of  Aaron  pour  in  from 
North  and  West  and  South.  The  stubborn, 
faithful  Swartwout  is  there,  with  his  brother 
Samuel ;  for.  Samuel  Swartwout  and  young  Og- 
den  and  Adair  and  Bollman,  shipped  aforetime 
per  schooner  to  Baltimore  by  the  red-nosed  one 
as  traitors,  have  been  declared  innocent,  and  are 
all  in  Richmond  attending  upon  their  chief. 

One  morning  the  whisper  goes  about  that 
"  Wilkinson  is  here."  The  whisper  is  con 
firmed  by  the  red-nosed  one's  appearance  in 
court.  Young  Washington  Irving,  who  has  come 
down  from  New  York  in  the  interest  of  Aaron, 
writes  concerning  that  red-nosed  advent: 
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Wilkinson  strutted  into  court,  and  took  his  stand  in  a 
parallel  line  with  Colonel  Burr.  Here  he  stood  for  a  moment 
swelling  like  a  turkey  cock,  and  bracing  himself  to  meet 
Colonel  Burr's  eye.  The  latter  took  no  notice  of  him,  until 
Judge  Marshall  directed  the  clerk  to  "  swear  General  Wilkin 
son."  At  the  mention  of  the  name,  Colonel  Burr  turned  and 
looked  him  full  in  the  face,  with  one  of  his  piercing  regards, 
swept  him  from  head  to  foot,  and  then  went  on  conversing 
with  his  counsel  as  before.  The  whole  look  was  over  in  a 
moment ;  and  yet  it  was  admirable.  There  was  no  appear 
ance  of  study  or  constraint,  no  affectation  of  disdain  or  defi 
ance  ;  only  a  slight  expression  of  contempt  played  across  the 
countenance,  such  as  one  might  show  on  seeing  a  person 
whom  one  considers  mean  and  vile. 

That  evening  Samuel  Swartwout  meets  the 
red-nosed  one,  as  the  latter  warrior  is  strutting 
on  the  walk  for  the  admiration  of  men,  and 
thrusts  him  into  a  mudhole.  The  lean  Jackson 
is  so  delighted  at  this  disposition  of  the  red- 
nosed  one,  that  he  clasps  the  warlike  Swartwout 
in  his  rake-handle  arms.  Later,  by  twenty-two 
years,  he  will  make  him  collector  of  the  port 
of  New  York  for  it.  Just  now,  however,  he 
advises  a  duel,  holding  that  the  mudhole  epi 
sode  will  be  otherwise  incomplete. 

Since  Swartwout  has  had  the  duel  in  his  mind 
from  the  beginning,  he  and  the  lean  Jackson 
combine  in  the  production  of  a  challenge,  which 
270 


HOW    AARON    IS    INDICTED 

is  duly  sent  to  the  red-nosed  one  in  the  name  of 
Swartwout.  The  red-nosed  one  has  no  heart 
for  duels,  and  crawls  from  under  the  challenge 
by  saying,  "  I  refuse  to  hold  communication 
with  a  traitor."  Thereupon  Swartwout,  with 
the  lean  Jackson  to  aid  him,  again  lapses  into 
the  clerical,  and  prints  the  following  gorgeous 
outburst  in  the  Richmond  Gazette: 

Brigadier  General  Wilkinson  :  SIR  :  When  once  the  chain 
of  infamy  grapples  to  a  knave,  every  new  link  creates  a 
fresh  sensation  of  detestation  and  horror.  As  it  gradually  or 
precipitately  unfolds  itself,  we  behold  in  each  succeeding  con 
nection,  and  arising  from  the  same  corrupt  and  contaminated 
source,  the  same  base  and  degenerated  conduct.  I  could  not 
have  supposed  that  you  would  have  completed  the  catalogue 
of  your  crimes  by  adding  to  the  guilt  of  treachery  forgery  and 
perjury  the  accomplishment  of  cowardice.  Having  failed  in 
two  different  attempts  to  procure  an  interview  with  you,  such 
as  no  gentleman  of  honor  could  refuse,  I  have  only  to  pro 
nounce  and  publish  you  to  the  world  as  a  coward. 

SAMUEL  SWARTWOUT. 

The  Grand  Jury  comes  into  court,  and  by  the 
shrill  mouth  of  Foreman  Randolph  reports  two 
indictments  against  Aaron:  one  for  treason,  "  as 
having  levied  war  against  the  United  States," 
and  one  for  "  having  levied  war  upon  a  country, 
to  wit,  Mexico,  with  which  the  United  States  are 
at  peace  " — the  latter  a  misdemeanor. 
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CHAPTER    XX 

HOW  AARON  IS    FOUND  INNOCENT 

THE   indictments  are  read,   and  Aaron 
pleads  "  Not  guilty!  "  Thereupon  Lu 
ther    Martin    moves    for    a    subpoena 
duces  tecum  against  Jefferson,  commanding  him 
to  bring  into  court  those  written  orders  from 
the  files  of  the  War  Department,  which  he,  as 
President  and  ex  officio  commander  in  chief  of 
the  army,   issued  to   the  red-nosed  Wilkinson. 
Arguing  the  motion,  the  violent  Martin  pro 
ceeds  in  these  words: 

"  We  intend  to  show  that  these  orders  were 
contrary  to  the  Constitution  and  the  laws.  We 
intend  to  show  that  by  these  orders  Colonel 
Burr's  property  and  person  were  to  be  de 
stroyed;  yes,  by  these  tyrannical  orders  the  life 
and  property  of  an  innocent  man  were  to  be 
exposed  to  destruction.  This  is  a  peculiar  case, 
sirs.  President  Jefferson  has  undertaken  to  pre 
judge  my  client  by  declaring  that  '  of  his  guilt 
272 


HOW    AARON    IS    INNOCENT 

there  can  be  no  doubt !  '  He  has  assumed  to 
himself  the  knowledge  of  the  Supreme  Being, 
and  pretended  to  search  the  heart  of  my  client. 
He  has  proclaimed  him  a  traitor  in  the  face 
of  the  country.  He  has  let  slip  the  dogs  of 
war,  the  hell-hounds  of  persecution,  to  hunt 
down  my  client.  And  now,  would  the  Presi 
dent  of  the  United  States,  who  has  himself 
raised  all  this  clamor,  pretend  to  keep  back  the 
papers  wanted  for  a  trial  where  life  itself  is 
at  stake?  It  is  a  sacred  principle  that  the 
accused  has  a  right  to  the  evidence  needed 
for  his  defense,  and  whosoever — whether  he 
be  a  president  or  some  lesser  man — withholds 
such  evidence  is  substantially  a  murderer, 
and  will  be  so  recorded  in  the  register  of 
heaven." 

Argument  ended,  Marshall,  chief  justice,  sus 
tains  the  motion.  He  holds  that  the  subpcena 
duces  tecum  may  issue,  and  goes  so  far  as  to  say 
that,  if  it  be  necessary  to  the  ends  of  justice,  the 
personal  attendance  of  Jefferson  himself  shall 
be  compelled. 

The  charge  is  treason,  and  no  bail  can  be 
taken;  Aaron  must  be  locked  up.  The  Gov 
ernor  of  Virginia  offers  as  a  place  of  detention 
a  superb  suite  of  rooms,  meant  for  official  occu- 
19  273 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

pation,  on  the  third  floor  of  the  penitentiary 
building.  Marshall,  chief  justice,  accepting 
such  proffer,  orders  Aaron's  confinement  in  the 
superb  official  suite.  Aaron  takes  possession, 
stocks  the  larder,  loads  the  sideboards,  and,  with 
a  cloud  of  servitors,  gives  a  dinner  party  to 
twenty  friends. 

The  lustrous  Theo  arrives,  and  makes  her 
residence  with  Aaron  in  the  official  suite,  as  lady 
of  the  establishment.  Each  day  a  hundred  visi 
tors  call,  among  them  the  aristocracy  of  the 
town.  Also  dinner  follows  dinner;  the  official 
suite  assumes  a  gala,  not  to  say  a  gallant  look, 
and  no  one  would  think  it  a  prison,  or  dream 
for  one  urbane  moment  that  Aaron — that  fol 
lower  of  the  gospel  according  to  Lord  Chester 
field — is  fighting  for  his  life. 

Following  the  order  for  the  subpoena  duces 
tecum,  and  Aaron's  dinner-giving  incarceration 
in  the  official  suite,  Marshall,  chief  justice,  di 
rects  that  court  be  adjourned  until  August — a 
month  away. 

Wirt,  during  the  vacation,  goes  over  to  Wash 
ington.  He  finds  Jefferson  in  a  mood  of  double 
anger. 

"What  did  I  tell  you,"  cries  Jefferson — 
"  what  did  I  tell  you  of  Marshall?  "  Then  he 
274 


HOW    AARON    IS    INNOCENT 

rushes  on  to  the  utterances  of  the  violent  Luther 
Martin.  "  Shall  you  not  move,"  he  demands, 
"  to  commit  Martin  as  partlceps  criminis  with 
Colonel  Burr?  There  should  be  evidence  to  fix 
upon  him  misprision  of  treason,  at  least.  At  any 
rate,  such  a  step  would  put  down  our  impudent 
Federal  bulldog,  and  show  that  the  most  clam 
orous  defenders  of  Colonel  Burr  are  one  and  all 
his  accomplices." 

Meanwhile,  the  "  impudent  Federal  bull 
dog  "  attends  a  Fourth-of-July  dinner  in  Balti 
more.  Every  man  at  table,  save  himself,  is  an 
adherent  of  Jefferson.  Eager  to  demonstrate 
that  loyal  fact  to  the  administration,  sundry  of 
the  guests  make  speeches  full  of  uncompliment 
for  Martin,  and  propose  a  toast  : 

"Aaron  Burr!  May  his  treachery  to  his 
country  exalt  him  to  the  scaffold !  " 

More  speeches,  replete  of  venom,  are  aimed 
at  Martin ;  whereupon  that  undaunted  drunkard 
gets  upon  his  feet. 

"  Who  is  this  Aaron  Burr,"  he  roars,  "  whose 
guilt  you  have  pronounced,  and  for  whose  blood 
your  parched  throats  so  thirst?  Was  not  he, 
a  few  years  back,  adored  by  you  next  to  your 
God?  Were  not  you  then  his  warmest  ad 
mirers?  Did  not  he  then  possess  every  virtue? 
275 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

He  was  then  in  power.  He  had  influence.  You 
were  proud  of  his  notice.  His  merest  smile 
brightened  all  your  faces.  His  merest  frown 
lengthened  all  your  visages.  Go,  ye  holiday,  ye 
sunshine  friends! — ye  time-servers,  ye  criers  of 
hosannah  to-day  and  crucifiers  to-morrow! — 
go ;  hide  your  heads  from  the  contempt  and  det 
estation  of  every  honorable,  every  right-minded 


man! 


August :  The  day  of  trial  arrives.  Wirt,  with 
the  dull,  deferent  Hay,  has  gone  over  the  tes 
timony  against  Aaron,  and  arranged  the  proces 
sion  of  its  introduction.  Wirt  will  begin  far 
back.  By  the  mouth  of  the  red-nosed  Wilkin 
son — somewhat  in  hiding  from  Swartwout — 
and  by  others,  he  will  relate  from  the  beginning 
Aaron's  dream  of  Mexican  conquest.  He  will 
show  how  the  vision  grew  and  expanded  until 
it  reacted  upon  the  United  States,  and  the  down 
fall  of  Washington  became  as  much  parcel  of 
Aaron's  design  as  was  the  capture  of  Mexico. 
He  will  trace  Aaron  through  his  many  con 
ferences  in  Washington,  in  Marietta,  in  Nash 
ville,  in  Cincinnati ;  and  then  on  to  New  Orleans, 
where  he  is  closeted  with  Merchant  Clark  and 
the  Bishop  of  Louisiana. 

And  so  the  parties  go  into  court. 

276 


HOW    AARON    IS    INNOCENT 

The  jury  being  sworn,  Marshall,  chief  justice, 
at  once  overthrows  those  well-laid  plans  of  Wirt. 

"  You  must  go  to  the  act,  sir,"  says  Marshall. 
"  Treason,  like  murder,  is  an  act.  You  can't 
think  treason,  you  can't  plot  treason,  you  can't 
talk  treason;  you  can  only  act  it.  In  murder 
you  must  first  prove  the  killing — the  murderous 
act,  before  you  may  offer  evidence  of  an  intent. 
And  so  in  treason.  You  must  begin  by  proving 
the  overt  act  of  war  against  the  country,  before 
I  can  permit  evidence  of  an  intent  which  led 
up  to  it." 

This  ruling  throws  Wirt  abroad  in  his  calcu 
lations.  The  "Federal  bulldog"  Martin 
grows  vulgarly  gleeful,  Wirt  correspondingly 
glum. 

Being  prodded  by  Marshall,  chief  justice, 
Wirt  declares  that  the  "  act  of  war  "  was  the 
assembling  of  forty  armed  men,  under  one  Tay 
lor,  at  Blennerhassett  Island.  They  stopped 
at  the  island  but  a  moment,  and  Aaron  himself 
was  in  Lexington.  None  the  less  there  were 
forty  of  them ;  they  were  armed;  they  were  there 
by  design  and  plan  of  Aaron,  with  an  ultimate 
purpose  of  levying  war  against  this  Government. 
Wirt  urges  that  constructive  war  was  at  that 
very  island  moment  being  waged,  with  Aaron 
277 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

personally  absent  but  constructively  present, 
and  constructively  waging  such  war. 

At  this  setting  forth,  Marshall,  chief  justice, 
puckers  his  lips,  as  might  one  who  thinks  the  ar 
gument  far-fetched  and  overfinely  spun.  Mar 
tin,  the  "  Federal  bulldog,"  does  not  scruple  to 
laugh  outright. 

"  Was  ever  heard  such  hash !  "  cries  Martin. 
"  Men  may  bear  arms  without  waging  war! 
Forty  men  no  more  mean  war  than  four !  Men 
may  float  down  the  Ohio,  and  still  no  war  be 
waged.  Because  the  hypochondriac  Jefferson  im 
agined  war,  we  are  to  receive  the  thing  as  res 
adjudicate*,  and  now  give  way  while  a  pleas 
antly  concocted  tale,  of  that  carnage  of  a  presi 
dential  nightmare,  is  recited  from  the  witness 
box.  Sirs,  you  are  not  to  fiddle  folk  onto  a 
scaffold  to  any  such  tune  as  that,  though  a  presi 
dent  furnish  the  music." 

Marshall,  chief  justice,  still  with  pursed  lips 
and  knotted  forehead,  directs  Wirt  to  proceed 
with  his  evidence  of  what,  at  Blennerhassett 
Island,  he  relies  upon  to  constitute,  construc 
tively  or  otherwise,  a  state  of  war.  Having 
heard  the  evidence,  he  will  pass  upon  the  points 
of  law  presented. 

Wirt,  desperate  because  he  may  do  no  better, 

278 


HOW    AARON    IS    INNOCENT 

puts  forward  one  Eaton  as  a  witness.  The  latter 
tells  a  long,  involved  story,  which  sounds  vastly 
like  fiction  and  not  at  all  like  fact,  of  conversa 
tions  with  Aaron.  Aaron  brings  out  in  cross  ex 
amination,  that  within  ten  days  after  he,  Eaton, 
went  with  this  tale  to  Jefferson,  a  claim  for  ten 
thousand  dollars,  which  he  had  been  pressing 
without  success  against  the  Government,  was 
paid.  Aaron  suggests  that  Eaton,  to  induce  pay 
ment  of  such  claim,  invented  his  narrative ;  and 
the  suggestion  is  plainly  acceptable  to  the  jury. 

Following  Eaton,  Wirt  calls  Truxton;  and 
next  the  suspicious  Morgan,  who  first  wrote  to 
Jefferson  touching  Aaron  and  his  plans.  Then 
follow  Blennerhassett's  gardener  and  groom, 
and  one  Woodbridge,  Blennerhassett's  man  of 
business.  Wirt,  by  these,  proves  Aaron's  fre 
quent  presence  on  the  island ;  the  boats  building 
at  Marietta ;  the  advent  of  Taylor  with  his  forty 
armed  men,  and  there  the  relation  ends.  In  all 
the  testimony,  not  a  knife  is  ground,  not  a  flint 
is  picked,  not  a  rifle  fired;  the  forty  armed 
men  do  not  so  much  as  indulge  in  drill.  For  all 
they  said  or  did  or  acted,  the  forty  might  have 
been  explorers,  or  sightseers,  or  settlers,  or  any 
other  form  of  peaceful  whatnot. 

"  I  suppose,"  observes  Marshall,  chief  justice, 
279 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

bending  his  black  eyes  warningly  upon  Wirt — 
"  I  suppose  it  unnecessary  to  instruct  counsel  that 
guilt  will  not  be  presumed  ?" 

Wirt  replies  stiffly  that  counsel  for  the  Gov 
ernment,  at  least,  require  no  instructions ;  where 
at  Martin  the  "Federal  bulldog"  barks  hoarsely 
up,  that  what  counsel  for  the  Government  most 
require,  and  are  most  deficient  in,  is  a  case  and 
the  evidence  of  it.  Wirt  pays  no  heed  to  the 
jeer,  but  announces  that  under  the  ruling  of  the 
court,  made  before  evidence  was  introduced,  he 
has  nothing  more  to  offer  touching  acts  of  overt 
war.  He  rests  his  case,  he  says,  on  that  point; 
and  thereupon,  the  defense  take  issue  with  him. 
The  Government,  Aaron  declares,  has  failed  to 
make  out  even  the  shadow  of  a  treason.  There 
is  nothing  which  demands  reply ;  he  will  call  no 
witnesses. 

Marshall,  chief  justice,  directs  that  the  ar 
guments  to  the  jury  be  proceeded  with.  Wirt  is 
heard.  Being  imaginative,  and  having  no  facts, 
he  unchains  his  fancy  and  paints  a  paradise, 
whereof  Aaron  is  the  serpent  and  Blennerhassett 
and  his  moon-visaged  spouse  are  Adam  and 
Eve.  It  is  a  beautiful  picture,  and  might  be 
effective  did  it  carry  any  grain  of  truth.  How 
ever,  it  is  well  received  by  the  jury  as  a  romance 
280 


HOW    AARON    IS    INNOCENT 

full  of  entertaining  glow  and  glitter;  and  then 
it  is  put  aside  from  serious  consideration. 

While  Wirt  the  fanciful  is  thus  coloring  his 
invented  paradise,  with  Aaron  as  the  serpent  and 
the  Blennerhassetts  the  betrayed  Adam  and 
Eve,  the  "  betrayed  "  Blennerhassett,  sitting  by 
Aaron's  side,  is  reading  the  "  serpent "  a  letter, 
that  day  received  from  Madam  Blennerhassett. 
The  missive  closes: 

"  Apprise  Colonel  Burr  of  my  warmest  ac 
knowledgments  for  his  own  and  Theo's  kind  re 
membrances.  Tell  him  to  assure  her  that  she 
has  inspired  me  with  a  warmth  of  attachment 
that  never  can  diminish. " 

On  the  oratorical  back  of  Wirt  come  Wick- 
ham,  Hay,  Randolph,  Botts,  and  McRae. 
Lastly  Martin  is  heard,  the  "  Federal  bulldog  " 
seizing  the  occasion  to  bay  Jefferson  even  more 
violently  than  before.  When  they  are  done, 
Marshall,  chief  justice,  lays  down  the  law  as  to 
what  should  constitute  an  "  overt  act  of  war  " ; 
and,  since  it  is  plain,  even  to  the  court  crier, 
that  no  such  act  has  been  proven,  the  jury  hurry 
forward  a  finding: 

"  Not  guilty!" 

Jefferson,  full  of  prejudice,  hears  the  news. 
He  writes  wrathfully  to  Wirt : 
281 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

"  Let  no  witness  depart  without  taking  a  copy 
of  his  evidence,  which  is  now  more  important 
than  ever.  The  criminal  Burr  is  preserved,  it 
seems,  to  become  the  rallying  point  of  all  the 
disaffected  and  worthless  of  the  United  States, 
and  to  be  the  pivot  on  which  all  the  conspiracies 
and  intrigues,  that  foreign  governments  may 
wish  to  disturb  us  with,  are  to  turn.  There  is 
still,  however,  the  misdemeanor;  and,  if  he  be 
convicted  of  that,  Judge  Marshall  must,  for  very 
decency,  give  us  some  respite  by  a  confinement 
of  him ;  but  we  must  expect  it  to  be  very  short." 

There  is  a  day's  recess;  then  the  charge  of 
"  levying  war  against  Mexico  "  is  called.  The 
red-nosed  Wilkinson  now  tells  his  story;  and  is 
made  to  admit — the  painful  sweat  standing  in 
great  drops  upon  his  purple  visage — that  he  has 
altered  in  important  respects  several  of  Aaron's 
letters.  Being,  by  his  own  mouth,  a  forger,  the 
jury  marks  its  estimate  of  the  red-nosed  one  by 
again  acquitting  Aaron,  and  pronouncing  a  sec 
ond  finding:  u  Not  guilty!  " 

Thus  ends  the  great  trial  which  has  rocked 
a  continent.  Aaron  is  free;  his  friends  crowd 
about  him  jubilantly,  while  the  loving,  lustrous 
Theo  weeps  upon  his  shoulder. 


282 


CHAPTER    XXI 

THE    SAILING  AWAY    OF   AARON 

SIX   months   creep   by;    May   is   painting 
Manhattan  with  its  flowers.     The  house 
of  the  stubborn,   loyal  Swartwout  is  in 
Stone    Street.      Long   ago,   in   the   old    Dutch 
beaver-peltry  days,  the  home  of  the  poet  Steen- 
dam  was  there.     Now  it  is  the  dwelling  place 
of  John  Swartwout,  and  Aaron  is  his  guest. 

The  lustrous  Theo  is  with  Aaron  this  sunny 
afternoon,  luster  something  dimmed;  for  the 
hour  is  one  sad  and  tearful  with  parting.  It 
is  a  last  parting;  though  the  pair — the  loving 
father!  the  adoring,  clinging  daughter! — hope 
fully,  happily  blind,  believe  otherwise. 

4  Yes,"  Aaron  is  saying,  "  I  must  sail  to 
night.  The  ship  is  at  anchor  in  the  lower  bay." 
Theo,  the  lustrous,  is  too  bravely  the  child 
of  Aaron  to  break  into  lamentation,  though  the 
wrung  heart  fills  her  eyes  with  tears.  "  And 
should  your  plans  fail,"  she  says,  "  you  will 

283 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

come  to  us  at  the  '  Oaks.'     Joseph,  you  know,^ 
is  no  longer  '  Mr.  Alston,'  but  *  Governor  Als-7 
ton.'     As  father  to  the  Governor  of  the  State, 
and  with  your  own  high  name,  you  may  take 
what  place  you  will  in  South  Carolina.     You 
promise,  do  you  not?     If  by  any  trip  of  for 
tune  your  prospects  are  overthrown,  you  will 
come  to  us  in  the  South?  " 

"  But,  dearling,  my  plans  will  not  fail.  I 
have  had  letters  from  Lords  Mulgrave  and 
Castlereagh,  I  bear  with  me  the  indorsement  of 
the  British  Minister  in  Washington.  Openly  or 
secretly,  England  will  support  my  project  with 
men  and  money  and  ships.  If,  in  some  caprice 
of  politics  or  a  changing  cabinet,  she  should 
refuse,  I  shall  seek  Napoleon.  Mexico  and  an 
empire ! — that  should  match  finely  the  native 
color  of  his  Corsican  feeling." 

Night  draws  on;  Aaron  and  the  lustrous 
Theo  say  the  sorrowful  words  of  separation, 
and  within  the  hour  he  is  aboard  the  Clarissa, 
outward  bound  for  England. 

In  London,  full  of  new  fire,  Aaron  throws 
away  no  time.  Each  day  he  is  closeted  with 
Mulgrave,  Castlereagh  and  Canning.  He  goes 
to  Holland  House,  and  its  noble  master  is  seized 
with  the  fever  for  Montezuman  conquest.  The 
284 


SAILING    AWAY    OF    AARON 

inventive  Earl  of  Bridgewater — who  is  radical 
and  goes  readily  to  novel  enterprises — catches 
the  Mexican  fury.  The  spirit  of  Cortez  is 
abroad;  the  nobility  of  England  fall  quickly  in 
with  Aaron's  Western  design.  It  will  mean  an 
augmentation  of  the  world's  peerage.  Also, 
Mexico  should  furnish  an  admirable  grazing 
ground  for  second  sons.  Aaron's  affairs  go 
swimmingly;  he  is  full  of  hopeful  anticipation. 
He  writes  the  lustrous  Theo  at  the  "  Oaks  " 
that,  "  save  for  the  unforeseen,"  little  Aaron 
Burr  Alston  shall  yet  wear  an  imperial  crown 
as  Aaron  II. 

Save  for  the  unforeseen !  The  reservation  is 
well  put  in.  As  Aaron  sits  in  conference,  one 
foggy  London  evening,  with  Mulgrave  and 
Castlereagh,  who  have  become  principal  fig 
ures  in  those  Mexican  designs,  Canning  comes 
hurriedly  in. 

"  I  am  from  the  Foreign  Office,"  says  he, , 
"  and  I  come  with  bad  news.  There  is  a  lion 
in  our  path — two  lions.  Secret  news  was  just 
received  that  Napoleon  has  driven  the  king  and 
queen  from  Madrid,  and  established  his  brother 
Joseph  on  the  Spanish  throne.  Mexico  by  that 
stroke  belongs  to  the  Bonapartes;  they  will 
hardly  consent  to  its  loss." 

285 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

'That  is  one  lion,"  observes  Mulgrave; 
"  now  for  the  other." 

"  The  other  is  England,"  proceeds  Canning. 
"  Already  we  are  mustering  our  forces,  and  en 
listing  ships,  to  drive  the  Corsican  out  of  Spain. 
We  are  to  become  the  allies  of  the  royal  outcasts, 
and  restore  them  to  Spanish  power.  I  need  not 
draw  the  inference.  As  Spain's  ally,  fighting  her 
battles  against  the  French  in  the  Peninsula,  Eng 
land  will  no  more  permit  the  loss  of  Mexico  than 
will  Napoleon." 

Aaron  listens;  a  chill  of  disappointment 
touches  his  strong  heart.  He  understands  how 
wholly  lost  are  his  hopes,  even  before  Canning 
is  through  talking.  He  had  two  strings  to  his 
bow;  both  have  snapped.  No  chance  now  of 
either  France  or  England  aiding  him.  His  pros 
pects,  so  bright  but  the  moment  before,  are  on 
the  instant  darkened. 

"  Delay !  always  delay !  "  he  murmurs.  Then 
his  courage  mounts  again;  the  chill  is  driven 
from  his  heart.  He  is  too  thoroughbred  to 
despond,  and  quickly  pulls  himself  together. 
"  Yes,"  says  he,  "  the  word  you  bring  shuts 
double  doors  against  us.  The  best  we  may  do 
is  wait — wait  for  Napoleon  to  win  or  lose  in 
Spain.  Should  England  hurl  him  back  across 
286 


SAILING    AWAY    OF    AARON 

the  Pyrenees,  we  may  resume  our  plans 
again." 

"  Indubitably,"  returns  Canning.  "  Should 
England  save  Spain  from  the  Corsican,  she 
might  well  lay  claim  to  the  right  of  disposing 
of  Mexico  as  a  recompense  for  her  exertions." 

Thus,  for  the  time,  by  force  of  events  in  far- 
off  Spain,  is  Aaron  compelled  to  fold  away  his 
ambitions. 

While  waiting  the  turn  of  fortune's  wheel 
in  Spain,  Aaron  fills  in  his  leisure  with  society. 
Everywhere  he  is  the  lion.  "  The  celebrated 
Colonel  Burr!  "  is  the  phrase  by  which  he  is  pre 
sented.  Entertained  as  well  as  instructed  by 
what  he  sees  and  hears,  he  begins  to  keep  a  jour 
nal.  It  shall  one  day  be  read  with  interest  by 
the  lustrous  Theo,  he  thinks. 

Jeremy  Bentham — honest,  fussy,  sprightly, 
full  of  dreams  for  bettering  governments — 
finds  out  Aaron.  The  honest,  fussy  Bentham 
loves  admiration  and  the  folk  who  furnish  it. 
He  has  heard  from  letter-writing  friends  in 
America  that  "  the  celebrated  Colonel  Burr " 
reads  his  works  with  satisfaction.  That  is 
enough  for  honest,  fussy,  praise-loving  Bentham, 
and  he  drags  Aaron  off  to  live  with  him  at  Bar 
row  Green. 

287 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

"  You,"  cries  the  delighted  Bentham,  when  he 
has  the  "  celebrated  Colonel  Burr  "  as  a  member 
of  his  family — "  you  and  Albert  Gallatin  are  the 
only  two  in  the  United  States  who  appreciate 
my  ideas.  For  the  common  mind — which  is  as 
dull  and  crawling  as  a  tortoise — my  theories 
travel  too  fast." 

Aaron  lives  with  Bentham — fussy,  kindly, 
pragmatical  Bentham — now  at  Barrow  Green, 
now  at  the  philosopher's  London  house  in 
Queen  Square  Place.  From  this  latter  high 
vantage  he  sallies  forth  and  meets  William 
Godwin;  and  Godwin,  and  Mary  Wollstone- 
craft,  carry  him  off  to  tea  with  Charles  and 
Mary  Lamb.  He  writes  in  his  journal: 

"  Go  with  the  Godwins  to  Mr.  Lamb's.  He 
is  a  writer,  and  lives  with  a  maiden  sister,  also 
literary,  up  four  pairs  of  stairs." 

At  the  Lambs  he  encounters  Faseli  the 
painter;  and  thereupon  Aaron,  the  Godwins, 
Faseli,  and  the  Lambs  brew  a  bowl  of  punch, 
and  thresh  out  questions  social,  artistic,  literary, 
and  political  until  the  hours  grow  small. 

Cobbett  talks  with  Aaron;  and  straight  off 
runs  to  Bentham  with  the  suggestion  that  they 
send  him  to  Parliament.  Aaron  laughs. 

"  I'm  afraid,"  says  he,  "  that  whatever  may 
288 


SAILING    AWAY    OF    AARON 

be  my  genius  for  law-giving,  it  would  fit  but 
badly  with  English  prejudice  and  English  in 
clination.  You  would  find  me  in  the  British 
Commons  but  a  sorry  case  of  a  square  peg  in  a 
round  hole." 

That  Aaron  is  the  fashion  at  Holland  House, 
which  is  the  gathering  point  of  opposition  to 
Government,  does  not  help  him  at  the  Home 
Office.  Also,  the  Spanish  allies  of  England, 
through  their  minister,  complain. 

"  He  is  fomenting  his  Mexican  design,"  cries 
the  Spaniard.  "  It  shows  but  poorly  for  Eng 
land's  friendship  that  she  harbors  him,  and  that 
he  is  feted  and  feasted  by  her  nobility." 

Lord  Hawkesbury  leans  to  the  Spanish  view. 
He  will  assert  his  powers  under  the  u  Alien 
Act."  It  will  please  the  Spaniards.  Like 
wise,  it  will  offend  Holland  House.  Two 
birds;  one  stone.  Hawkesbury  sends  a  request 
that  Aaron  call  upon  him  at  his  office;  and 
Aaron  calls. 

*  This,  you  will  understand,"  observes 
Hawkesbury,  "  is  not  a  personal  but  an  official 
interview,  Colonel  Burr.  I  might  hope  to  make 
it  more  pleasant  were  it  personal.  Speaking 
as  one  of  the  crown's  secretaries,  I  must  notify 
you  to  quit  England." 

20  289 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

;<  What  is  your  authority  for  this?"  asks 
Aaron. 

u  You  will  find  it  in  the  '  Alien  Act.'  Under 
that  statute,  Government  is  invested  with  power 
to  order  the  departure  of  any  alien  without  as 
signing  cause." 

"Precisely!  Your  Government  is  now  en 
gaged  in  searching  American  ships  for  Eng 
lish  sailors.  It  was,  I  recall,  the  basis  of  bit 
ter  complaint  in  America  when  I  left.  In 
seizing  those  whom  you  call  English  sailors 
and  subjects,  you  refuse  to  recognize  their  natu 
ralization  as  citizens  of  America.  Do  I  state 
the  fact?" 

"  Assuredly !  No  Englishman  has  a  right  to 
shift  his  allegiance  from  his  king.  That  is 
British  doctrine.  Once  a  subject,  always  a  sub 
ject." 

"  The  very  point !  "  returns  Aaron.  "  Once 
a  subject,  always  a  subject.  I  suppose  you  will 
not  deny  that  I  was  in  1756  born  in  New  Jersey, 
then  a  province  of  England.  I  was  born  a  Brit 
ish  subject,  was  I  not?  " 

"  There  is  no  doubt  of  that." 

"  Then,  sir,  being  born  a  British  subject,  un 
der  your  doctrine  of  *  Once  a  subject,  always  a 
subject/  I  am  still  a  British  subject.  Therefore, 
290 


SAILING    AWAY    OF    AARON 

I  am  no  alien.  Therefore,  I  do  not  fall  within 
the  description  of  your  '  Alien  Act.'  You  can 
hardly  order  me  to  quit  England  as  an  alien  at 
the  very  moment  when  you  say  I  am  a  British 
subject.  My  lord  " — this  with  a  smile  like  a 
warning — "  the  story,  if  told  in  the  papers, 
would  get  your  lordship  laughed  at." 

Hawkesbury  falls  back  baffled.  He  keeps  his 
face,  however,  and  tells  Aaron  the  matter  may 
rest  until  he  further  considers  it. 

Aaron  visits  Oxford,  and  is  wined  and  dined 
by  the  grave  college  heads.  He  talks  Bentham 
and  religion  to  his  hosts,  and  they  fall  to  amia 
ble  disagreement  with  him. 

"  We  then,"  he  writes  in  his  journal,  "  got 
upon  American  politics  and  geography,  upon 
which  subjects  a  most  profound  and  learned 
ignorance  was  displayed." 

Birmingham  entertains  Aaron;  Stratford 
makes  him  welcome.  He  travels  to  Edinburgh, 
and  is  the  victim  of  parties,  dinners,  balls,  ser 
mons,  assemblies,  plays,  lectures,  and  other  Scot 
tish  dissipations.  The  bench  and  bar  cannot  get 
too  much  of  him.  Mackenzie,  who  wrote  the 
"  Man  of  Feeling,"  and  Walter  Scott,  who  is 
in  the  "  Marmion  "  stage  of  his  development, 
seek  his  acquaintance.  Aaron  sees  a  deal  of 
291 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

these  lettered  ones,  and  sets  down  in  his  diary 
that: 

"  Mackenzie  has  twelve  children;  six  of  them 
daughters,  all  interesting,  and  two  handsome. 
He  is  sprightly,  amiable,  witty.  Scott,  with  less 
softness,  has  more  animation — talks  much  and 
is  very  agreeable." 

Aaron  stays  a  month  with  his  Scotch  friends, 
and  returns  to  London.  He  resumes  the  old 
round  of  club  and  drawing-room,  with  Hol 
land,  Melville,  Mulgrave,  Castlereagh,  Can 
ning,  Bentham,  Cobbett,  Godwin,  Lamb,  Faseli, 
and  others  political,  philosophical,  social,  liter 
ary,  and  artistic. 

One  day  as  he  returns  from  breakfast  at  Hol 
land  House,  he  finds  a  note  on  his  table.  It  is 
from  Lord  Liverpool.  The  note  is  polite,  bland, 
insinuating,  flattering.  It  says,  none  the  less, 
that  "  The  presence  of  Colonel  Burr  in  Great 
Britain  is  embarrassing  to  His  Majesty's  Gov 
ernment,  and  it  is  the  wish  and  expectation  of 
Government  that  he  remove." 

The  note  continues  to  the  courteous  effect  that 
u  passports  will  be  furnished  Colonel  Burr,"  and 
a  free  passage  in  an  English  ship  to  any  port 
— not  English. 

Aaron  replies  to  Lord  Liverpool's  note,  and 
292 


SAILING    AWAY    OF    AARON 

says  that  having  become,  as  his  Lordship  de 
clares,  "  embarrassing  to  His  Majesty's  Govern 
ment,"  he  must,  of  course,  as  a  gentleman 
"  gratify  the  wishes  of  Government  by  with 
drawing."  He  adds  that  Sweden,  now  he  may 
no  longer  stay  in  England,  is  his  preference. 

Aaron  goes  to  Stockholm,  and  has  trouble 
with  the  language  but  none  with  the  inhabitants, 
who  receive  him  with  open  hearts  and  arms.  At 
once  he  is  called  upon  to  play  the  distinguished 
guest  in  highest  circles,  and  does  it  with  usual 
easy  grace.  He  spends  three  months  in  Stock 
holm,  and  two  in  traveling  about  the  kingdom. 
The  excellence  of  the  roads  and  the  lack  of  toll- 
gates  amaze  him.  Likewise,  he  is  in  rapture 
over  Swedish  honesty.  He  makes  an  admiring 
dash  at  the  laws  of  the  realm,  and  spreads  on  his 
journal : 

'*  There  is  no  country  in  which  personal  lib 
erty  is  so  well  secured;  none  in  which  the  vio 
lation  of  it  is  punished  with  so  much  certainty 
and  promptitude ;  none  in  which  justice  is  admin 
istered  with  so  much  dispatch  and  so  little  ex 
pense." 

Aaron  attends  the  opera,  and  cannot  say  too 
much  in  praise  of  the  Swedish  appreciation  of 
music.  He  exalts  the  sensibility  of  the  Norse- 
293 


AN    AMERICAN    PATRICIAN 

men.  Returning  from  the  opera,  he  lights  his 
candle  and  writes : 

"  What  most  interested  me  was  the  perfect 
attention  and  the  uncommon  degree  of  feeling 
exhibited  by  the  audience.  Every  countenance 
was  affected  by  those  emotions  which  the  music 
expressed.  In  England  you  see  no  expression 
painted  on  the  faces  at  a  concert  or  an  opera. 
All  is  somber  and  grim.  They  cry  4  Bravo !  bra- 
vissimo ! '  with  the  same  countenance  wherewith 
they  curse." 

From  Sweden  Aaron  repairs  to  Denmark, 
and  takes  up  pleasant  quarters  in  Copenhagen. 
Here  he  goes  in  for  science,  ransacks  libraries, 
and  attends  the  courts.  Studying  the  Danish 
jurisprudence,  he  is  struck  by  that  amiable  fea 
ture  called  the  "  Committees  on  Conciliation," 
and  resolves  to  recommend  its  adoption  in 
America. 

Hamburg  next.  Here  Aaron  asks  for  pass 
ports  into  France.  They  are  not  immediately 
forthcoming,  since  under  the  Corsican  passports 
are  more  easily  asked  for  than  obtained.  While 
his  passports  are  making,  Aaron  is  visited  by  the 
learned  Ebeling,  and  Niebuhr,  privy  counselor 
to  the  king. 

Aaron  takes  six  weeks  and  explores  Germany. 
294 


SAILING    AWAY    OF    AARON 

He  sees  Hanover,  Brunswick,  Gottingen,  Go- 
tha,  Weimar.  At  Weimar,  Goethe  brings  him 
to  his  house,  where  he  meets  "  the  amiable,  good 
Wieland,"  and  is  dragged  off  by  Goethe  to  the 
theater,  and  sits  through  a  "  serious  comedy  " 
with  the  Baroness  de  Stein.  He  is  presented  at 
court,  and  is  welcomed  by  the  grand  duke — 
Goethe's  duke — and  the  grand  duchess.  Here, 
too,  he  falls  temporarily  in  love  with  the  noble 
d'Or,  a  beautiful  lady  of  the  ducal  court.  His 
love  begins  to  alarm  him;  he  fears  he  may  wed 
the  d'Or,  remain  in  Weimar,  and  "  lapse  into 
a  Dutchman."  To  avoid  this  fate,  he  beats  a 
hasty  retreat  to  Erfurth.  Being  safe,  he  cheers 
his  spirits  by  writing : 

"  Another  interview,  and  I  would  have  been 
lost!  The  danger  was  so  imminent,  and  the 
d'Or  so  beautiful,  that  I  ordered  post  horses, 
gave  a  crown  extra  to  the  postilions  to  whip  like 
the  devil,  and  lo!  here  I  am  in  a  warm  room, 
with  a  neat,  good  bed,  safe  locked  within  four 
Erfurth  walls,  rejoicing  and  repining." 

As  Aaron  writes  this,  he  lays  aside  his  "  repin 
ing  "  for  the  lovely  d'Or,  and  so  far  emerges 
from  his  gloom  as  to  "  draw  a  dirk,"  and  put 
to  thick-soled  clattering  flight  one  of  the  local 
police,  who  invades  his  room  with  the  purpose  of 
295 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 


putting  out  the  candle.  Erfurth  being  a  garri 
son  town,  lights  are  ordered  "  out  "  at  nine 
o'clock.  As  a  mark  of  respect  to  his  dirk,  how 
ever,  Aaron's  candles  are  permitted  to  gutter 
and  sputter  unrebuked  until  long  after  mid 
night. 


or  THE 
i  UNIVERSITY 

OF 


CHAPTER    XXII 

HOW  AARON   RETURNS    HOME 

THE  belated  passports  arrive,  and  Aaron 
journeys  to  Paris.     It  is  now  with  him 
as  it  was  with  the  unfortunate  gentle 
man,  celebrated  in  Scripture,  who  went  down 
into  a  certain  city  only  to  fall  among  thieves. 
Fouche  orders  his  police  to  dog  him.    The  post 
office  is  given  instructions;  his  letters  are  stolen 
— those  he  writes  as  well  as  those  he  should 
receive. 

What  is  at  the  bottom  of  all  this  French 
scoundrelism  ?  Madison  the  weak  is  president 
in  Washington.  That  is  to  say,  he  is  called 
"  president,"  the  actual  power  abiding  in  Mon- 
ticello  with  Jefferson,  at  whose  political  knee  he 
was  reared.  Armstrong  is  Madison's  minister 
to  France.  Armstrong  is  a  New  York  poli 
tician  married  to  a  Livingston,  and,  per  incident, 
a  promoted  puppet  of  Jefferson's.  McRae  is 
American  consul  at  Paris — McRae,  who  sat  at 
297 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

the  back  of  Wirt  and  Hay  during  the  Richmond 
trial.  It  is  these  influences,  directed  from  Mon- 
ticello,  which,  in  each  of  its  bureaus,  oppose  the 
government  of  Napoleon  to  Aaron.  By  orders 
from  Monticello,  "  every  captain,  French  or 
American,  is  instructed  to  convey  no  letter  or 
message  or  parcel  for  Colonel  Burr.  Also  such 
captain  is  required  to  make  anyone  handing  him 
a  letter  or  parcel  for  delivery  in  the  United 
States,  to  pledge  his  honor  that  it  contains  noth 
ing  from  Colonel  Burr."  In  this  way  is  Aaron 
shut  off  from  his  friends  and  his  supplies.  He 
writes  in  his  diary: 

"  These  vexations  arise  from  the  machinations 
of  Minister  Armstrong,  who  is  indefatigable  in 
his  exertions  to  my  prejudice,  being  goaded  on 
by  personal  hatred,  political  rancor,  and  the  na 
tive  malevolence  of  his  temper." 

Aaron  waits  on  Savary,  and  finds  that  min 
ister  polite  but  helpless.  He  sees  Fouche;  the 
policeman  is  as  polite  and  as  helpless  as  Savary. 
He  calls  upon  Talleyrand.  That  ingrate  and 
congenital  traitor  skulks  out  of  an  interview. 
Aaron  smiles  as  he  recalls  the  skulking,  limping 
one  fawning  upon  him  aforetime  at  Richmond 
Hill. 

Talleyrand  puts  Aaron  in  mind  of  Jerome 
298 


AARON     RETURNS     HOME 

Bonaparte,  now  King  of  Westphalia,  made  so 
by  that  kingmonger,  his  brother.  His  Royal 
Highness  of  Westphalia  was,  like  Talleyrand,  a 
guest  at  Richmond  Hill.  He,  too,  has  nibbled 
American  crusts,  and  was  thankful  for  American 
crumbs  in  an  hour  when  his  official  rating,  had 
he  been  given  one,  could  not  have  soared  above 
that  of  a  vagrant  out  of  Corsica  by  way  of 
France.  Aaron  applies  for  an  interview. 

"  His  Royal  Highness  is  engaged;  he  cannot 
see  Colonel  Burr,"  is  the  response. 

"  I  am  not  surprised,"  says  Aaron.  "  He  who 
will  desert  a  wife  will  desert  a  friend,  and  I  am 
not  to  suppose  that  one  can  remember  friend 
ship  who  forgets  love." 

Official  France  shuts  and  bolts  its  doors  in  the 
face  of  Aaron  to  please  the  Man  of  Monticello. 
Thereupon  Aaron  demands  his  passports  of  the 
American  minister. 

Armstrong,  minister,  is  out  of  Paris  for  the 
moment,  and  Aaron  goes  to  Consul  McRae. 
That  official,  feeling  the  pressure  of  the  Monti- 
cello  thumb,  replies: 

"  My  knowledge  of  the  circumstances  under 
which  Colonel  Burr  left  the  United  States,  ren 
der  it  my  duty  to  decline  giving  him  a  passport." 

Five  weeks  eaten  up  in  disappointment! 
299 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

Aaron,  who  intended  remaining  but  a  month  in 
Paris,  finds  his  money  running  out.  He  confides 
to  his  diary: 

"  Behold  me,  a  prisoner  of  state,  and  almost 
without  a  sou." 

Aaron  resolves  to  economize.  He  removes 
from  his  hotel,  dismisses  his  servants,  and  takes 
up  garret  lodgings  in  a  back  street.  He  jokes 
with  his  poverty : 

"  How  sedate  and  sage  one  is,"  he  writes, 
"  on  only  three  sous.  Eating  my  bread  and 
cheese,  and  seeing  half  a  bottle  of  the  twenty-five 
sous  wine  left,  I  thought  it  too  extravagant  to 
open  a  bottle  of  the  good.  I  tried  to  get  down 
the  bad,  constantly  thinking  on  the  other,  which 
was  in  sight.  I  stuck  to  the  bad  and  got  it  all 
down.  Then  to  pay  myself  for  this  heroism,  I 
treated  myself  to  a  large  tumbler  of  the  true 
Roussillon.  I  am  of  Santara's  opinion  that 
though  a  man  may  be  a  little  the  poorer  for 
drinking  good  wine,  yet  he  is,  under  its  influence, 
much  more  able  to  bear  poverty."  Farther  on 
he  sets  down:  "  It  is  now  so  cold  that  I  should 
be  glad  of  a  fire,  but  to  that  there  are  financial 
objections.  I  was  near  going  to  bed  without 
writing,  for  it  is  very  cold,  and  I  have  but  two 
stumps  of  wood  left.  By  the  way,  I  wear  no 
300 


AARON     RETURNS    HOME 

surtout  these  days,  for  a  great  many  philosophic 
reasons,  the  principal  being  that  I  have  not  got 
one.  The  old  greatcoat,  which  I  brought  from 
America,  will  serve  for  traveling  if  I  ever 
travel  again." 

Although  official  France  shuts  its  doors  on 
Aaron,  unofficial  France  does  not.  The  excel 
lent  Volney,  of  a  better  memory  than  the  King 
of  Westphalia  or  the  slily  skulking  Talleyrand, 
remembers  Richmond  Hill.  Volney  hunts  out 
Aaron  in  his  poor  lodgings,  laughs  at  his  penury, 
and  offers  gold.  Aaron  also  laughs,  and  puts 
back  the  kindly  gold-filled  hand. 

1  Very  well,"  says  Volney.  "  Some  other 
day,  when  you  are  a  little  more  starved.  Mean 
while,  come  with  me ;  there  are  beautiful  women 
and  brave  men  who  are  dying  to  meet  the  re 
nowned  Colonel  Burr." 

Again  in  salon  and  drawing-room  is  Aaron 
the  lion — leaving  the  most  splendid  scenes  to 
return  to  his  poor,  barren  den  in  the  back 
street.  And  yet  he  likes  the  contrast.  He 
goes  home  from  the  Duchess  d'Alberg's  and 
writes  this: 

'*  The  night  bad,  and  the  wind  blowing  down 
my  chimney  into  the  room.  After  several  ex 
periments  as  to  how  to  weather  the  gale,  I  dis- 
301 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

covered  that  I  could  exist  by  lying  flat  on  the 
floor.  Here,  on  the  floor,  reposing  on  my 
elbows,  a  candle  by  my  side,  I  have  been  read 
ing  *  L'Espion  Anglos,'  and  writing  this.  When 
I  got  up  just  now  for  pen  and  ink,  I  found 
myself  buried  in  ashes  and  cinders.  One  might 
have  thought  I  had  lain  a  month  at  the  foot  of 
Vesuvius." 

Aaron,  having  leisure  and  a  Yankee  fancy  for 
invention,  decides  to  remedy  the  chimney.  He 
calls  in  a  chimney  doctor,  of  whom  there  are 
many  in  chimney-smoking  Paris,  and  assumes  to 
direct  the  bricklaying  energies  of  that  scientist. 
The  fumiste  rebels;  he  objects  that  to  follow 
Aaron's  directions  will  spoil  the  chimney. 

"  Monsieur,"  returns  Aaron  grandly,  "  that  is 
my  affair." 

The  rebellious  fumiste  is  quelled,  and  lays 
bricks  according  to  directions.  The  work  is 
completed;  the  inmates  of  the  house  gather 
about,  as  a  fire  is  lighted,  to  enjoy  the  discom 
fiture  of  the  "insane  American";  for  the  fu 
miste  has  told.  The  fire  is  lighted;  the  chim 
ney  draws  to  perfection;  the  convinced  fumiste 
sheds  tears,  and  tries  to  kiss  Aaron,  but  is  re 
pelled. 

"  Monsieur,"  cries  the  repentant  fumiste,  "  if 
302 


AARON     RETURNS    HOME 

you  will  but  announce  yourself  as  a  chimney 
doctor,  your  fortune  is  made." 

Aaron's  friend,  Madam  Fenwick,  is  told  of 
his  triumph,  and  straightway  begs  him  to  re 
store  the  health  of  her  many  chimneys — a  forest 
of  them,  all  sick !  Aaron  writes : 

"  Madam  Fenwick  challenged  me  to  cure  her 
chimneys.  Accepted,  and  was  assigned  for  a 
first  trial  the  worst  in  the  house.  Enter  the 
mason,  the  bricks,  and  the  mortar.  To  work; 
Madam  Fenwick  making,  meanwhile,  my  break 
fast — coffee,  blanc  and  honey — in  the  adjoin 
ing  room,  and  laughing  at  my  folly.  Visitors 
came  in  to  see  what  was  going  forward.  Much 
wit  and  some  satire  was  displayed.  The  work 
was  finished.  Made  a  large  fire.  The  chimney 
drew  in  a  manner  not  to  be  impeached.  I  was 
instantly  a  hero,  especially  to  the  professional 
fumiste,  who  bent  to  the  floor  before  me,  such 
was  the  burden  of  his  respect." 

Griswold,  a  New  York  man  and  a  speculator, 
unites  with  Aaron;  the  two  take  a  moderate 
flier  in  the  Holland  Company  stocks.  Aaron  is 
made  richer  by  several  thousand  francs.  These 
riches  come  at  a  good  time,  for  the  evening  be 
fore  he  entered  in  his  journal : 

"  Having  exactly  sixteen  sous,  I  bought  with 

3°3 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

them  two  plays  for  my  present  amusement. 
Came  home  with  my  two  plays,  and  not  a  single 
sou.  Have  been  ransacking  everywhere  to  see 
if  some  little  vagrant  ten-sou  piece  might  not 
have  gone  astray.  Not  one!  To  make  mat 
ters  worse,  I  am  out  of  cigars.  However,  I 
have  some  black  vile  tobacco  which  will  serve 
as  a  substitute." 

With  Volney,  Aaron  meets  Baron  Denon, 
who  is  charmed  to  know  "  the  celebrated  Colo 
nel  Burr."  Baron  Denon  was  with  Napoleon 
in  Egypt,  and  is  a  privileged  character.  Denon 
is  a  bosom  friend  of  Maret.  Nothing  will  do 
but  Maret  must  know  Aaron.  He  does  know 
him  and  is  enchanted.  Denon  and  Maret  ask 
Aaron  how  they  may  serve  him. 

"  Get  me  my  passports,"  says  Aaron. 

Maret  and  Denon  are  figures  of  power.  Arm 
strong,  minister,  and  McRae,  consul,  begin  to 
feel  a  pressure.  It  is  intimated  that  the  Em 
peror's  post  office  is  tired  of  stealing  Aaron's 
letters,  Fouche's  police  weary  of  dogging  him. 
In  brief,  it  is  the  emperor's  wish  that  Aaron 
depart.  Maret  and  Denon  intrigue  so  saga 
ciously,  press  so  surely,  that,  acting  as  one  man, 
the  French  and  the  American  officials  agree  in 
issuing  passports  to  Aaron.  He  is  free ;  he  may 
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AARON     RETURNS     HOME 

quit  France  when  he  will.     He  is  quite  willing, 
and  makes  his  way  to  Amsterdam. 

Lowering  in  the  world's  sky  is  the  cloud  of 
possible  war  between  England  and  America. 
"  Once  a  subject,  always  a  subject,"  does  not 
match  the  wants  of  a  young  and  growing  repub 
lic,  and  America  is  racked  of  a  war  fever.  The 
feeble  Madison,  in  leash  to  Monticello,  does  not 
like  war  and  hangs  back.  In  spite  of  the  weakly 
peaceful  Madison,  however,  the  war  cloud 
grows  large  enough  to  scare  American  ships. 
Being  scared,  they  avoid  the  ports  of  Northern 
Europe,  as  lying  too  much  within  the  perilous 
shadow  of  England. 

This  war  scare,  and  its  effect  on  American 
ships,  now  gets  much  in  Aaron's  way.  He  turns 
the  port  of  Amsterdam  upside  down;  not  a  ship 
for  New  York  can  he  find.  Killing  time,  he 
again  gambles  in  the  Holland  Company's  shares. 
He  travels  about  the  country.  He  does  not  like 
the  swamps  and  canals  and  windmills;  nor  yet 
the  Dutchmen  themselves,  with  their  long  pipes 
and  twenty  pairs  of  breeches.  He  returns  to 
Amsterdam,  and,  best  of  good  fortunes!  dis 
covers  the  American  ship  Vigilant,  Captain 
Combes. 

"  Can  he  arrange  passage  for  America?" 
21  3°5 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

Captain  Combes  replies  that  he  can.  There 
is  a  difficulty,  however.  Captain  Combes  and 
his  good  ship  Vigilant  are  in  debt  to  the  Dutch 
in  the  sum  of  five  hundred  guilders.  If  Aaron 
will  advance  the  sum,  it  shall  be  repaid  the  mo 
ment  the  Vigilant' s  anchors  are  down  in  New 
York  mud.  Aaron  advances  the  five  hundred 
guilders.  The  Vigilant  sails  out  of  the  Helder 
with  Aaron  a  passenger.  Once  in  blue  water, 
the  Vigilant  is  swooped  upon  by  an  English 
frigate,  which  carries  her  gayly  into  Yarmouth, 
a  prize. 

Aaron  writes  to  the  English  Alien  Office,  re 
lates  how  his  homeward  voyage  has  been 
brought  to  an  end,  and  asks  permission  to  go 
ashore.  Since  England  has  somewhat  lost  in 
terest  in  Spain,  and  is  on  the  threshold  of  war 
with  the  United  States,  her  objections  to  Aaron 
expressed  aforetime  by  Lord  Liverpool  have 
cooled.  Aaron  will  not  now  "  embarrass  his 
Majesty's  Government."  He  is  granted  permis 
sion  to  land;  indeed,  as  though  to  make  amends 
for  a  past  rudeness,  the  English  Government 
offers  Aaron  every  courtesy.  Thus  he  goes  to 
London,  and  is  instantly  in  the  midst  of  Ben- 
tham,  Godwin,  Mulgrave,  Canning,  Cobbett, 
and  the  rest  of  his  old  friends. 
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AARON     RETURNS     HOME 

Aaron's  funds  are  at  their  old  Parisian  ebb; 
that  loan  to  Captain  Combes,  which  ransomed 
the  Vigilant  from  the  Dutch,  well-nigh  bank 
rupted  him.  He  got  to  like  poverty  in  France, 
however,  and  does  not  repine.  He  refuses  to 
go  home  with  Bentham,  and  takes  to  cheap 
London  lodgings  instead.  He  explains  to  the 
fussy,  kindly  philosopher  that  his  sole  purpose 
now  is  to  watch  for  a  home-bound  ship,  and  he 
can  keep  no  sharp  lookout  from  Barrow  Green. 

Once  in  his  poor  lodgings,  Aaron  resumes 
that  iron  economy  he  learned  to  practice  in  Paris. 
He  sets  down  this  in  his  diary : 

"  On  my  way  home  discovered  that  I  must 
dine.  I  find  my  appetite  in  the  inverse  ratio 
to  my  purse,  and  I  can  now  conceive  why  the 
poor  eat  so  much  when  they  can  get  it.  Consid 
ering  the  state  of  my  finances,  I  bought  half  a 
pound  of  boiled  beef,  eightpence;  a  quarter  of 
a  pound  of  ham,  sixpence ;  one  pound  of  brown 
sugar,  eightpence;  two  pounds  of  bread,  eight- 
pence;  ten  pounds  of  potatoes,  fivepence;  and 
then,  treating  myself  to  a  pot  of  ale,  eightpence, 
proceeded  to  read  the  second  volume  of  *  Ida.' 
As  I  read,  I  boiled  my  potatoes,  and  made  a 
great  dinner,  eating  half  my  beef.  Of  the  two 
necessaries,  coffee  and  tobacco,  I  have  at  least 

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AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

a  week's  allowance,  so  that  without  spending  an 
other  penny,  I  can  keep  the  machinery  going  for 
eight  days." 

At  last  Aaron's  money  is  nearly  gone.  He 
makes  a  memorandum  of  the  stringency  in  this 
wise: 

"  Dined  at  the  Hole  in  the  Wall  off  a  chop. 
Had  two  halfpence  left,  which  are  better  than 
a  penny  would  be,  because  they  jingle,  and  thus 
one  may  refresh  one's  self  with  the  music." 

Aaron,  at  this  pinch  in  his  fortunes,  seeks  out 
a  friendly  bibliophile,  and  sells  him  an  armful 
of  rare  books.  In  this  manner  he  lifts  himself 
to  affluence,  since  he  receives  sixty  pounds. 

Practicing  his  economies,  and  filling  his  treas 
ury  by  the  sale  of  his  books,  Aaron  is  still  the 
center  of  a  brilliant  circle.  He  goes  everywhere, 
is  received  everywhere;  for  in  England  poverty 
comes  not  amiss  with  the  honor  of  an  exile,  and 
is  held  to  be  no  drawing-room  bar.  Exiled  opu 
lence,  on  the  other  hand,  is  at  once  the  subject 
of  gravest  British  suspicions. 

That  Aaron's  experiences  have  not  warmed 
him  toward  France,  finds  exhibition  one  evening 
at  Holland  House.  He  is  in  talk  with  the  in 
quisitive  Lord  Balgray,  who  asks  about  Napo 
leon  and  France. 

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AARON     RETURNS    HOME 

"  Sir,"  says  Aaron,  -^France,  under  Napo 
leon,  is  fast  rebarberizing — retrograding  to  the 
darkest  ages  of  intellectual  and  moral  degrada 
tion.  All  that  has  been  seen  or  heard  or  felt  or 
read  of  despotism  is  freedom  and  ease  compared 
with  that  which  now  dissolves  France.  The 
science  of  tyranny  was  in  its  infancy;  Napoleon 
has  matured  it.  In  France  all  the  efforts  of 
genius,  all  the  nobler  sentiments  and  finer  feel 
ings  are  depressed  and  paralyzed.  Private 
faith,  personal  confidence,  the  whole  train  of 
social  virtues  are  condemned  and  eradicated. 
They  are  crimes.  You,  sir,  with  your  generous 
propensities,  your  chivalrous  notions  of  honor, 
were  you  condemned  to  live  within  the  grasp  of 
that  tyrant,  would  be  driven  to  discard  them  or 
be  sacrificed  as  a  dangerous  subject." 

"What  a  contrast  to  England!"  cries  Bal- 
gray — "  England,  free  and  great!  " 

"  England!  "  retorts  Aaron,  with  a  grimace. 
'  There  are  friends  here  whom  I  love.  But 
for  England  as  mere  England,  why,  then,  I 
hope  never  to  visit  it  again,  once  I  am  free  of 
it,  unless  at  the  head  of  fifty  thousand  fighting 
men!" 

Balgray  sits  aghast. — Meanwhile  the  chance 
of  war  between  America  and  England  broadens, 
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AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

the  cloud  in  the  sky  grows  blacker.  Aaron  is 
all  impatience  to  find  a  ship  for  home ;  war  might 
fence  him  in  for  years.  At  last  his  hopes  are  re 
warded.  The  Aurora,  outward  bound  for  Bos 
ton,  is  reported  lying  off  Gravesend.  The  cap 
tain  says  he  will  land  Aaron  in  Boston  for  thirty 
pounds. 

And  now  he  is  really  going ;  the  ship  will  sail 
on  the  morrow.  At  midnight  he  takes  up  his 
diary: 

"  It  is  twelve  o'clock — midnight.  Having 
packed  up  my  residue  of  duds,  and  stowed  my 
papers  in  the  writing  desk,  I  sit  smoking  my 
pipe  and  contemplating  the  certainty  of  escaping 
from  this  country.  As  to  my  reception  in  my 
own  country,  so  far  as  depends  on  J.  Madison 
&  Co.,  I  expect  all  the  efforts  of  their  implacable 
malice.  This,  however,  does  not  give  me  un 
easiness.  I  shall  meet  those  efforts  and  repel 
them.  My  confidence  in  my  own  resources  does 
not  permit  me  to  despond  or  even  doubt.  The 
incapacity  of  J.  Madison  &  Co.  for  every  pur 
pose  of  public  administration,  their  want  of  en 
ergy  and  firmness,  make  it  impossible  they 
should  stand.  They  are  too  feeble  and  corrupt 
to  hold  together  long.  Mem. :  To  write  to  Als 
ton  to  hold  his  influence  in  his  State,  and  not 
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AARON     RETURNS     HOME 

again  degrade  himself  by  compromising  with 
rascals  and  cowards." 

It  is  in  this  high  vein  that  Aaron  sails  away 
for  home,  and,  thirty-five  days  later,  sits  down 
to  beef  and  potatoes  with  the  pilot  and  the 
Auroras  captain,  in  the  harbor  of  Boston.  He 
goes  ashore  without  a  shilling,  and  sells  his 
"  Bayle  "  and  "  Moreri  "  to  President  Kirtland 
of  Harvard  for  forty  dollars.  This  makes  up 
his  passage  money  for  New  York.  He  nego 
tiates  with  the  skipper  of  a  coasting  sloop,  and 
nine  days  later,  in  the  evening's  dusk,  he  lands  at 
the  Battery. 

It  is  the  next  day.     The  sun  is  shining  into 
narrow  Stone  Street.  It  lights  up  the  Swartwout    ' 
parlor  where  Aaron,  home  at  last,  is  hearing  the 
news  from  the  stubborn,  changeless  one — Swart 
wout  of  the  true,  unflagging  breed! 

"  It  is  precisely  four  years,"  says  Aaron,  fol 
lowing  a  conversational  lull,  "  since  I  left  this 
very  room  to  go  aboard  the  Clarissa  for  Eng 
land." 

"  Aye !  Four  years !  "  repeats  the  stubborn 
one,  meditatively.  "  Much  water  runs  under  the 
bridges  in  four  years  i  It  has  carried  away  some 
of  your  friends,  colonel;  but  also  it  has  carried 
away  as  many  of  your  enemies." 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

For  one  day  and  night,  Aaron  and  the  stub 
born,  loyal  Swartwout  smoke  and  exchange 
news.  On  the  second  day,  Aaron  opens  offices  in 
Nassau  Street.  Three  lines  appear  in  the 
Evening  Post.  The  notice  reads : 

"  Colonel  Burr  has  returned  to  the  city,  and 
will  resume  his  practice  of  the  law.  He  has 
opened  offices  in  Nassau  Street." 

The  town  sits  up  and  rubs  its  eyes.  Aaron's 
enemies — the  old  fashionable  Hamilton-Schuy- 
ler  coterie — are  scandalized;  his  friends  are  ex 
alted.  What  is  most  important,  a  cataract  of 
clients  swamps  his  offices,  and  when  the  sun  goes 
down,  he  has  received  over  two  thousand  dollars 
in  retainers.  Instantly,  he  is  overwhelmed  with 
business;  never  again  will  he  cumber  his  journals 
with  ha'penny  registrations  of  groat  and  farth 
ing  economies.  As  redoubts  are  carried  by 
storm,  so,  with  a  rush,  to  the  astonishment  of 
friend  and  foe  alike,  Aaron  retakes  his  old  place 
as  foremost  among  the  foremost  at  the  New 
York  bar. 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

GRIEF    COMES   KNOCKING 

BUSINESS  rushes  in  upon  Aaron;  its  vol 
ume  overwhelms  him. 
"  This  is  too  much,"  says  he,   "  for 
a  gentleman  whose  years  have  reached  the  mid 
dle  fifties,"  and  he  takes  unto  himself  a  partner. 
Later  he  takes  another  partner;  the  work  of 
the  firm  overflows  into  a   quartette  of  rooms 
and  keeps  busy  a  dozen  clerks. 

"  Why  labor  so  hard?"  asks  the  stubborn 
Swartwout.    "  Your  income  is  the  largest  at  the 
bar.    You  have  no  such  need  of  money." 
"Ay!  but  my  creditors  have!  " 
"  Your  creditors?    Who  are  they?  " 
"  Every  soul  who  lost  a  dollar  by  my  South 
western  ambitions — you,  with  others.     Man,  I 
owe  millions !  " 

Aaron  works  like  a  horse  and  lives  like  a  Spar 
tan.    He  rises  with  the  blue  of  dawn.   His  serv 
ant  appears  with  his  breakfast — an  egg,  a  plate 
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AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

of  toast,  a  pot  of  coffee.  He  is  at  his  desk  in 
the  midst  of  his  papers  when  the  clerks  begin 
to  arrive.  All  day  he  is  insatiable  to  work.  He 
sends  messages,  receives  them,  examines  au 
thorities,  confers  with  fellow  lawyers,  counsels 
clients,  dictates  letters.  Business  incarnate — 
he  pushes  every  affair  with  incredible  dispatch. 
And  the  last  thing  he  will  agree  to  is  defeat. 

"  Accept  only  the  inevitable !  "  is  his  war- 
word,  in  law  as  in  life. 

Aaron's  day  ends  with  seven  o'clock.  He 
shoves  everything  of  litigation  sort  aside,  helps 
himself  to  a  glass  of  wine,  and  refuses  further 
thought  or  hint  of  business.  It  is  then  he  calls 
about  him  his  friends.  The  evening  is  merry 
with  laughter,  jest  and  reminiscence.  At  mid 
night  he  retires,  and  sleeps  like  a  tree. 

"Colonel  Burr,"  observes  Dr.  Hosack — he 
who  attended  Hamilton  at  Weehawken — "  you 
do  not  sleep  enough;  six  hours  is  not  enough. 
Also,  you  eat  too  little." 

Aaron  gazes  with  comic  eye  at  the  rotund, 
well-fed  doctor,  the  purple  of  good  burgundy  in 
his  full  cheeks. 

"  If  I  were  a  doctor,  now,"  he  retorts,  "  I 
should  grant  your  word  to  be  true.  But  I  am 
a  lawyer,  and  must  keep  myself  on  edge." 


DE\VITT  CLINTON 
From  an  etching  by  H.  B.  Hall,  New  York,  1869. 


GRIEF     COMES    KNOCKING 

Aaron's  earliest  care  is  to  write  his  arrival  to 
the  lustrous  Theo.  The  reply  he  receives  makes 
the  world  black. 

"  Less  than  a  fortnight  ago/'  she  says,  "  your 
letters  would  have  gladdened  my  soul.     Now     ^ 
there  is  no  more  joy,  and  life  a  blank.    My  boy 
is  gone — forever  dead  and  gone." 

While  Aaron  sits  with  the  fatal  letter  in  his 
fingers,  his  friend  Van  Ness  comes  in.  He  turns 
his  black  eyes  on  the  visitor — eyes  misty,  dim, 
the  brightness  lost  from  them. 

"  What  dreams  were  mine,"  he  sighs — "  what 
dreams  for  my  brave  little  boy!  He  is  dead, 
and  half  my  world  has  died." 

Toward  the  end  of  summer,  Alston  sends 
word  that  the  lustrous  Theo  is  in  danger.  The 
loss  of  her  boy  has  struck  at  the  roots  of  her 
life.  Aaron,  in  new  alarm,  writes  urging  that 
she  come  North.  He  sends  a  physician  from 
New  York  to  bring  her  to  him.  Alston  con 
sents;  he  himself  cannot  come.  His  duties  as 
governor  tie  him.  The  lustrous  Theo,  eager  to 
meet  her  father  with  whom  she  parted  on  that 
tearful  evening  in  Stone  Street  so  many  years 
ago,  will  start  at  once.  He,  Alston,  shall  later 
follow  her. 

Alston   sees   the   lustrous   Theo   aboard  the 

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AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

schooner  Patriot,  then  lying  in  Charleston  har 
bor.  It  is  rough  December  weather  when  the 
Patriot  clears  for  New  York.  The  message  of 
her  sailing  reaches  Aaron  overland,  and  he  is 
on  strain  for  the  schooner's  arrival.  Days  come, 
days  go;  the  schooner  is  due — overdue.  Still 
no  sign  of  those  watched-for  topsails  down  the 
lower  bay !  And  so  time  passes.  The  days  be 
come  weeks,  the  weeks  months.  Hope  sickens, 
then  dies.  Aaron,  face  white  and  drawn,  a 
ghost's  face,  reads  the  awful  truth  in  that  long 
waiting.  The  lustrous  Theo  is  dead — like  the 
baby!  It  is  then  the  iron  of  a  measureless  ad 
versity  enters  his  soul ! 

Aaron  goes  about  the  daily  concerns  of  life, 
making  no  moan.  He  does  not  speak  of  his 
loss,  but  saves  his  grief  for  solitude.  One  day 
a  friend  relates  a  rumor  that  the  schooner  was 
captured  by  buccaneers,  and  the  lustrous  Theo 
lives.  The  broken  Aaron  shakes  his  head. 

"  She  is  dead!  "  says  he.  "  Thus  is  severed 
the  last  tie  that  binds  me  to  my  kind." 

Aaron  hides  his  heart  from  friend  and  foe 
alike.  As  though  flying  from  his  own  thoughts, 
he  plunges  more  furiously  than  ever  into  the 
law. 

While  Aaron's  first  concern  is  work,  and  to 

316 


GRIEF     COMES     KNOCKING 

earn  money  for  those  whom  he  calls  his  credi 
tors,  he  finds  time  for  politics. 

"  Not  that  I  want  office,"  he  observes;  "  for 
he  who  was  Vice-President  and  tied  Jefferson 
for  a  presidency,  cannot  think  on  place.  But  I 
owe  debts — debts  of  gratitude,  debts  of  ven 
geance.  These  must  be  paid." 

Aaron's  foes  are  in  the  ascendant.  De  Witt  / 
Clinton  is  mayor — the  aristocrats  with  the  Liv 
ingstons,  the  Schuylers  and  the  Clintons,  are 
everywhere  dominant.  They  control  the  town; 
they  control  the  State.  At  Washington,  Madi 
son  a  marionette  President,  is  in  apparent  com 
mand,  while  Jefferson  pulls  the  White  House 
wires  from  Monticello.  All  these  Aaron  sees  at 
a  glance;  he  can,  however,  take  up  but  one  at  a 
time. 

"  We  will  begin  with  the  town,"  says 
he,  to  the  stubborn,  loyal  Swartwout.  "  We 
must  go  at  the  town  like  a  good  wife  at  her 
house-cleaning.  Once  that  is  politically  spick 
and  span,  we  shall  clean  up  the  State  and  the 
nation." 

Aaron  calls  about  him  his  old  circle  of  indom- 
itables.    They  have  been  overrun  in  his  absence 
by  the  aristocrats — by  the  Clintons,  the  Schuy 
lers  and  the  Livingstons.     They  gather  at  his 
317 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

rooms  in  the  Jay  House — a  noble  mansion,  once 
the  home  of  Governor  Jay. 

"  I  shall  make  no  appearance  in  your  poli 
tics,'1  says  he.  "  It  would  not  fit  my  years  and 
my  past.  None  the  less,  I'll  show  you  the  road 
to  victory."  Then,  with  a  smile:  "You  must 
do  the  work;  I'll  be  the  Old  Man  of  the  Moun 
tain.  From  behind  a  screen  I'll  give  directions." 

Aaron's  lieutenants  include  the  Swartwouts, 
Buckmaster,  Strong,  Prince,  Radcliff,  Rutgers, 
Ogden,  Davis,  Noah,  and  Van  Buren,  the  last 
a  rising  young  lawyer  from  Kinderhook. 

"Become  a  member  of  Tammany," is  Aaron's 
word  to  young  Van  Buren.  "  Our  work  must 
be  done  by  Tammany  Hall.  You  must  enroll 
yourself  beneath  its  banner.  We  must  bring 
about  a  revival  of  the  old  Bucktail  spirit." 

Van  Buren  enters  Tammany;  the  others  are 
already  members. 

Aaron,  through  his  lieutenants,  brings  his  old 
Tammany  Bucktails  together  within  eight  weeks 
after  his  return.  The  Clintons,  and  their  fel 
low  aristocrats  are  horrified  at  what  they  call 
"  his  effrontery."  Also,  they  are  somewhat 
panic-smitten.  They  fall  to  vilification.  Aaron 
-is -"traitor!"  "murderer!"  "demon!"  "fiend!" 
They  pay  a  phalanx  of  scribblers  to  assail  him  in 

318 


GRIEF     COMES    KNOCKING 

the  press.  His  band  of  Bucktail  lieutenants  are 
dubbed  "Burrites,"  "  Burr's  Mob,"  and  "  the 
Tenth  Legion."  The  epithets  go  by  Aaron  like 
the  mindless  wind. 

The  Bucktail  spirit  revived,  the  stubborn 
Swartwout  and  the  others  ask: 

"What  shall  we  do?" 

The  popular  cry  is  for  war  with  England.  At 
Washington — Jefferson  at  Monticello  pulling 
on  the  peace  string — Madison  is  against  war. 
Mayor  De  Witt  Clinton  stands  with  Jefferson 
and  Marionette  Madison.  He  is  for  peace,  as 
are  his  caste  of  aristocrats — the  Schuylers  and 
those  other  left-over  fragments  of  Federalism, 
all  lovers  of  England  from  their  cradles. 

"  What  shall  we  do?  "  cry  the  Bucktails. 

"  Demand  war!  "  says  Aaron.  Then,  calling 
attention  to  Clinton  and  his  purple  tribe,  he 
adds:  "  They  could  not  occupy  a  better  position 
for  our  purposes.  They  invite  destruction." 

Tammany  demands  war  vociferously.  It  is, 
indeed,  the  cry  all  over  the  land.  The  admin 
istration  is  carried  off  its  feet.  Jefferson  at  last 
orders  war;  for  he  sees  that  otherwise  Mario 
nette  Madison  will  be  defeated  of  a  second 
term. 

Mayor  Clinton  and  his  aristocrats  are  frantic. 
319 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

The  more  frantic,  since  with  "  War!  "  for  their 
watchword,  Aaron's  Bucktails  conquer  the  city, 
and  two  years  later  the  State.  As  though  by  a 
tidal  wave,  every  Clinton  is  swept  out  of  official 
Albany. 

Aaron  sends  for  Van  Ness,  the  stubborn 
Swartwout,  and  their  fellow  Bucktails. 

"  Go  to  Albany,"  says  he.  "  Demand  of 
Governor  Tompkins  the  removal  of  Mayor 
Clinton.  Say  that  he  is  inefficient  and  was  the 
friend  of  England." 

Governor  Tompkins  —  being  a  politician  — 
hesitates  at  the  bold  step.  The  Bucktails,  Aaron- 
guided,  grow  menacing.  Seeing  himself  in  dan 
ger,  Governor  Tompkins  hesitates  no  longer. 
Mayor  Clinton  is  ignominiously  thrust  from 
office  into  private  life.  With  him  go  those  hopes 
of  a  presidency  which  for  half  a  decade  he  has 
been  sedulously  cultivating.  Under  the  blight 
of  that  removal,  those  hopes  of  a  future  White 
House  wither  like  uprooted  flowers. 

Broken  of  purse  and  prospects,  Clinton  is  in 
despair. 

"  He  will  never  rise  again !  "  exclaims  Van 
Ness. 

"  My  friend,"  says  Aaron,  "  he  will  be  your 
governor.  He  will  never  be  president,  but  the 
320 


GRIEF     COMES     KNOCKING 

governorship  is  yet  to  be  his;  and  all  by 
your  negligence — yours  and  your  brother  Buck- 
tails." 

"  As  how?  "  demands  Van  Ness. 

"  You  let  him  declare  for  the  Erie  Canal," 
returns  Aaron.  *  You  were  so  purblind  as  to 
oppose  the  project.  You  should  have  taken  the 
business  out  of  his  hands.  If  I  had  been  here 
it  would  have  been  done.  Mark  my  words ! 
The  canal  will  be  dug,  and  it  will  make  Clinton 
governor.  However,  we  shall  hold  the  town 
against  him;  and,  since  we  have  been  given  a 
candidate  for  the  presidency,  we  shall  later  have 
Washington  also." 

'  Who  is  that  presidential  candidate  to  whom 
you  refer?  " 

"  Sir,  he  is  your  friend  and  my  friend.  Who, 
but  Andrew  Jackson  ?  Since  New  Orleans,  it  is 
bound  to  be  he." 

"Andrew  Jackson!"  exclaims  Van  Ness. 
"  But,  sir,  the  Congressional  caucus  at  Washing 
ton  will  never  consider  him.  You  know  the 
power  of  Jefferson — he  will  hold  that  caucus  in 
the  hollow  of  his  hand.  It  is  he  who  will  name 
Madison's  successor;  and,  after  those  street- 
corner  speeches  and  his  friendship  for  you  in 
Richmond,  it  can  never  be  Andrew  Jackson." 
23  321 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

"  I  know  the  Jefferson  power,"  returns 
Aaron;  "  none  knows  it  better.  At  the  head  of 
his  Virginia  junta  he  has  controlled  the  coun 
try  for  years.  He  will  control  it  four  years 
more,  perchance  eight.  Our  war  upon  him  and 
his  caucus  methods  must  begin  at  once.  And  our 
candidate  should  be,  and  shall  be,  Andrew  Jack 
son." 

"  Whom  will  Jefferson  select  to  follow  Madi 
son?" 

"  Monroe,  sir;  he  will  put  forward  Monroe." 

"  Monroe !  "  repeats  Van  Ness.  "  Has  he 
force? — brains?  Some  one  spoke  of  him  as  a 
soldier." 

"Soldier!"  observes  Aaron,  his  lip  curling. 
"  Sir,  Monroe  never  commanded  so  much  as  a 
platoon — never  was  fit  to  command  one.  He 
acted  as  aide  to  Lord  Stirling,  who  was  a  sot, 
not  a  soldier.  Monroe's  whole  duty  was  to  fill 
his  lordship's  tankard,  and  hear  with  admiration 
his  drunken  lordship's  long  tales  about  himself. 
As  a  lawyer,  Monroe  is  below  mediocrity.  He 
never  rose  to  the  honor  of  trying  a  cause  wherein 
so  much  as  one  hundred  pounds  was  at  stake. 
He  is  dull,  stupid,  illiterate,  pusillanimous,  hypo 
critical,  and  therefore  a  character  suited  to  the 
wants  of  Jefferson  and  his  Virginia  coterie.  As 
322 


GRIEF     COMES    KNOCKING 

a  man,  he  is  everything  that  Jackson  isn't  and 
nothing  that  he  is." 

Van  Ness  and  his  brother  Bucktails  do  the 
bidding  of  Aaron  blindly.  On  every  chance 
they  shout  for  Jackson.  Aaron  writes  "  Jack 
son  "  letters  to  all  whom,  far  or  near,  he  calls 
his  friends.  Also  the  better  to  have  New  York 
in  political  hand,  he  demands — through  Tam 
many — of  Governor  Tompkins  and  Mayor  Rad- 
cliff  that  every  Clinton,  every  Schuyler,  every 
Livingston,  as  well  as  any  who  has  the  taint  of 
Federalism  about  him  be  relegated  to  private 
life.  In  town  as  well  as  country,  he  sweeps  the 
New  York  official  situation  free  of  opposition. 

The  Bucktails  are  in  full  sway.  Aaron  privily 
coaches  young  Van  Buren,  who  is  suave  and  dex 
terous,  and  for  politeness  almost  the  urbane  peer 
of  Aaron  himself,  in  what  local  party  diploma 
cies  are  required,  and  sends  him  forward  as  the 
apparent  controlling  spirit  of  Tammany  Hall. 
What  Jefferson  is  doing  with  Monroe  in  Vir 
ginia,  Aaron  duplicates  with  the  compliant  Van 
Buren  in  New  York. 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

THE    DOWNFALL   OF   KING   CAUCUS 

"     rv 

~m     JT  ARIONETTE  MADISON  is  with- 
^  '*       drawn     from     the     White     House 
boards   at  the   close   of  his   second 
term.     Jefferson,  working  the  machinery  from 


~m      >|" 
I  \^  I 


Monticello,  replaces  him  with  Marionette  Mon 
roe.  It  is  now  Aaron  begins  his  war  on  the 
system  of  Congressional  nomination—  a  system 
which  has  obtained  since  the  days  of  Washing 
ton.  He  writes  to  Alston  : 

"  Our  Virginia  junta,  beginning  with  Washington,  own 
ing  Adams,  and  controlled  by  Jefferson,  having  had  possession 
of  the  Government  for  twenty-four  years,  consider  the  nation 
their  property,  and  by  bawling,  «  Support  the  administra 
tion  !  '  have  so  far  succeeded  in  duping  the  public.  The 
moment  is  auspicious  for  a  movement  which  in  the  end  must 
break  down  this  degrading  system.  The  best  citizens  all  over 
the  country  are  impatient  of  the  Virginia  rule,  and  the 
wrongs  wrought  under  it.  Its  administrations  have  been 
weak;  offices  have  been  bestowed  merely  to  preserve  power, 
and  without  a  smallest  regard  for  fitness.  If,  then,  there  be 


DOWNFALL    OF    KING     CAUCUS 

in  the  country  a  man  of  firmness  and  decision  and  standing, 
it  is  your  duty  to  hold  him  up  to  public  view.  There  is 
such  a  man — Andrew  Jackson.  He  is  the  hero  of  the  late 
war,  and  in  the  first  flush  of  a  boundless  popularity.  Give 
him  a  respectable  nomination,  by  a  respectable  convention 
drawn  from  the  party  at  large,  and  in  the  teeth  of  the  caucus 
system — so  beloved  of  scheming  Virginians — his  final  victory 
is  assured.  If  it  does  not  come  to-day,  it  will  come  to-mor 
row;  for  'caucus,'  which  is  wrong,  must  go  down;  and 
'convention,'  which  is  right,  must  prevail.  Have  your 
legislature  pass  resolutions  condemning  the  caucus  system;  in 
that  way  you  can  educate  the  sentiment  of  South  Carolina, 
and  the  country,  too.  Later,  we  will  take  up  the  business 
of  the  convention,  and  Jackson's  open  nomination." 

Aaron  writes  in  similar  strain  to  Major  Lewis, 
Jackson's  neighbor  and  man  of  politics  in  Ten 
nessee.  He  winds  up  his  letter  with  this : 

"Jackson  ought  to  be  admonished  to  be  passive;  for  the 
moment  he  is  announced  as  a  candidate,  he  will  be  assailed 
by  the  Virginia  junta  with  menaces,  and  those  failing,  with 
insidious  promises  of  boons  and  favors." 

On  the  back  of  this  anti-caucus,  pro-conven 
tion  letter-writing,  that  his  candidate  Jackson 
may  have  a  proper  debut,  Aaron  pulls  a  Swart- 
wout  string,  pushes  a  Van  Ness  button.  At  once 
the  obedient  Bucktails  proffer  a  dinner  in  Jack 
son's  honor.  The  hero  accepts,  and  comes  to 
town.  The  town  is  rent  with  joy;  Bucktail  en- 
325 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

thusiasm,  even  in  the  cider  days  and  nights  of 
Martling,  never  mounted  more  wildly  high. 

Aaron,  from  his  back  parlor  in  the  old  Jay 
house,  directs  the  excitement.  It  is  there  Jack 
son  finds  him. 

"  I  shall  not  be  at  the  dinner,  general,"  says 
Aaron;  "  but  with  Van  Buren  and  Davis  and 
Van  Ness  and  Ogden  and  Rutgers  and  Swart- 
wout  and  the  rest,  you  will  find  friends  and  good 
company  about  you." 

"But  you?" 

'*  There  will  be  less  said  by  the  Clintons  and 
the  Livingstons  of  traitors  and  murderers  if  I 
remain  away.  I  owe  it  to  my  past  to  subdue 
lies  and  slanders  to  a  smallest  limit.  No ;  I  must 
work  my  works  behind  bars  and  bolts,  and  in 
darkened  rooms.  It  is  as  well — better !  After 
a  man  sees  sixty,  the  fewer  dinners  he  eats,  the 
,  I  better  for  him.  I  intend  to  live  to  see  you 
President;  not  on  your  account,  but  mine,  and 
for  the  grief  it  will  bring  my  enemies.  And  yet 
it  may  take  years.  Wherefore,  I  must  save  my 
self  from  wine  and  late  hours — I  must  keep  my 
self  with  care." 

Aaron  and  the  general  talk  for  an  hour. 

"  And  if  I  should  become  President  some 
day,"  says  Jackson,  as  they  separate,  "  you  may 
326 


DOWNFALL    OF    KING     CAUCUS 

see  that  Southwestern  enterprise  of  ours  re 
vived." 

"  It  will  be  too  late  for  me,"  responds  Aaron. 
"  I  am  old,  and  shall  be  older.  All  my  hopes, 
and  the  reasons  of  them  are  dead — are  in  the 
grave.  Still  " — and  here  the  black  eyes  sparkle 
in  the  old  way — "  I  shall  be  glad  to  have 
younger  men  take  up  the  work.  It  should  serve 
somewhat  to  wipe  c  treason '  from  my  fame." 

"  Treason !  "  snorts  the  fiery  Jackson.  "  Sir, 
no  one,  not  fool  or  liar,  ever  spoke  of  treason 
and  Colonel  Burr  in  one  breath !  " 

There  is  a  mighty  dinner  outpouring  of  Buck- 
tails,  and  Jackson — the  "  hero,"  the  "  con 
queror,"  the  "  nation's  hope  and  pride,"  ac 
cording  to  orators  then  and  there  present  and 
eloquent — is  toasted  to  the  skies.  At  the  close 
of  the  festival  a  Clintonite,  one  Colden,  thinks 
to  test  the  Jackson  feeling  for  Aaron.  He  will 
offer  the  name  of  Aaron's  arch  enemy. 

The  wily  Colden  gets  upon  his  feet.  Lifting 
high  his  glass  he  loudly  gives : 

"  De  Witt  Clinton !  " 

The  move  is  a  surprise.     It  is  like  a  sword 

thrust,  and  Van  Buren,  Swartwout,  Rutgers,  and 

other  Bucktail  leaders  know  not  how  to  parry  it. 

Jackson,  the  guest  of  honor,  is  not,  however,  to 

327 


AN    AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

be  put  in  the  attitude  of  offering  even  tacit  insult 
to  the  absent  Aaron.  He  cannot  reply  in  words, 
but  he  manages  a  retort,  obvious  and  emphatic. 
As  though  the  word  "  Clinton  "  were  a  signal, 
he  arises  from  his  place  and  leaves  the  room. 
The  thing  is  as  unmistakable  in  its  meaning,  as 
it  is  magnificent  in  its  friendly  loyalty  to  Aaron, 
and  shows  that  Jackson  has  not  changed  since 
that  street-corner  Richmond  oratory  so  disturb 
ing  to  Wirt  and  Hay.  Also,  it  removes  what 
ever  of  doubt  exists  as  to  what  will  be  Aaron's 
place  in  event  of  Jackson's  occupation  of  the 
White  House.  The  maladroit  Colden,  intend 
ing  outrage,  brings  out  compliment;  and,  as  the 
gaunt  Jackson  goes  stalking  from  the  hall,  there 
descends  a  storm  of  Bucktail  cheers,  and  shouts 
of  "  Burr!  Burr!  "  with  a  chorus  of  hisses  for 
Clinton  as  the  galling  background. 

Throughout  the  full  two  terms  of  Marionette 
Monroe,  Aaron  urges  his  crusade  against  Jef 
ferson,  the  Virginia  junta,  and  King  Caucus. 
His  war  against  his  old  enemies  never  flags. 
His  demand  is  for  convention  nominations;  his 
candidate  is  Jackson. 

In  all  Aaron  asks  or  works  for,  the  loyal 
Bucktails  are  at  once  his  voice  and  his  arm.  In 
requital  he  shows  them  how  to  perpetuate  their 

328 


DOWNFALL    OF    KING     CAUCUS 

control  of  the  town.  He  tells  them  to  break 
down  a  property  qualification,  and  extend  the 
voting  franchise  to  every  man,  whether  he  be 
landholder  or  no. 

"  Let's  make  Jack  as  good  as  his  master," 
says  Aaron.  "  It  will  please  Jack,  and  hurt  his 
master's  pride — both  good  things  in  their  way." 

It  is  a  rare  strategy,  one  not  only  calculated 
to  strengthen  Tammany,  but  drive  the  knife  to 
the  aristocratic  hearts  of  the  Clintons,  the  Liv 
ingstons  and  the  Schuylers. 

"  Better  be  ruled  by  a  man  without  an 
estate,  than  by  an  estate  without  a  man!  "  cries 
Aaron,  and  his  Bucktails  take  up  the  shout. 

The  proposal  becomes  a  law.  With  that  one 
stroke  of  policy,  Aaron  destroys  caste,  humbles 
the  pride  of  his  enemies,  and  gives  State  and 
town,  bound  hand  and  foot,  into  the  secure 
fingers  of  his  faithful  Bucktails. 

Time  flows  on,  and  Aaron  is  triumphant. 
King  Caucus  is  stricken  down;  Jefferson,  with 
his  Virginians  are  beaten,  and  Jackson  is  named 
by  a  convention. 

In  the  four-cornered  war  that  ensues,  Jackson 
runs  before  the  other  three,  but  fails  of  the  con 
stitutional  majority  in  the  electoral  college.  In 
the  House,  a  deal  between  Adams  and  Clay  de- 

329 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

feats  Jackson,  and  Adams  goes  to  the  White 
House. 

Aaron  is  unmoved. 

"  I  am  threescore  years  and  ten,"  says  he — 
"  the  allotted  space  of  man.  Now  I  know  that 
I  am  to  live  surely  four  years  more;  for  I  shall 
yet  see  Jackson  President." 

Adams  fears  Aaron,  as  long  ago  his  father 
feared  him.  He  strives  to  win  his  Bucktails 
from  him  with  a  shower  of  appointments. 

'  Take  them,"  says  Aaron  to  his  Bucktails. 
"  They  are  yours,  not  his — those  offices.  He 
but  gives  you  your  own." 

Aaron,  throughout  those  four  years  of 
Adams,  tends  the  Jackson  fires  like  a  devotee. 
Van  Ness  is  astonished  at  his  enthusiasm. 

"  I  should  think  you'd  rest,"  says  he. 

"  Rest?     I  cannot  rest.     It  is  all  I  live  for 


now." 


"  But  I  don't  understand !    You  get  nothing." 
The  black  eyes  shoot  forth  the  old  ophidian 
sparks.  "  Sir,  I  get  vengeance — and  forget  feel 
ings!" 

Adams  comes  to  his  White  House  end,  and 

Jackson  is  elected  in  his  place.     Jackson  comes 

to  New  York,  and  he  and  Aaron  meet  in  the  lat- 

ter's  rooms — pleasant  rooms,   overlooking  the 

330 


AARON  BURR 
From  a  painting  by  J.  Vandyke. 


DOWNFALL    OF    KING    CAUCUS 

Bowling  Green.  They  light  their  long  pipes, 
and  sit  opposite  one  another,  smoking  like  dra 
gons. 

Jackson  is  the  one  who  speaks.  Taking  the 
pipe  from  his  lips,  he  says: 

"  Colonel  Burr,  my  gratitude  is  not  wholly 
declamatory." 

"  General,"  returns  Aaron,  "  the  best  favor 
you  can  show  me  is  show  favor  to  my  friends." 

'*  That  I  shall  do,  be  sure !  Van  Ness  is  to 
become  a  judge,  Swartwout  collector,  while  Van 
Buren  goes  into  my  Cabinet  as  Secretary  of 
State.  Also  I  shall  say  to  your  enemies — the 
Clintons  and  those  other  proud  ones — that  he 
from  New  York  who  seeks  Andrew  Jackson's 
appointment,  mu§t  come  with  the  approval  of 
Colonel  Burr." 

Jackson  is  inaugurated. 

"  I  am  through,"  says  Aaron — "  through  at 
four  and  seventy.  Now  I  shall  work  a  little, 
play  a  little,  rest  a  deal;  but  no  more  politics — 
no  more  politics!  My  friends  are  triumphant. 
As  for  my  foes,  I  leave  them  to  Providence  and 
Andrew  Jackson." 


CHAPTER    XXV 

THE    SERENE    LAST    DAYS 


. 

/C  ARON  goes  forward  with  his  business 
/-\  — his  cases  in  court,  his  conferences 
•*-  -*~  with  clients.  Accurate  as  an  Alvan- 
ley  in  dress,  slim,  light,  with  the  quick  step  of 
a  boy,  no  one  might  guess  his  years.  The  bar 
respects  him;  his  friends  crowd  about  him;  his 
enemies  shrink  away  from  the  black,  unblink 
ing  stare  of  those  changeless  ophidian  eyes. 
And  so  with  his  books  and  his  wine  and  his 
pipe  he  sits  through  the  serene  evenings  in  his 
rooms  by  the  Bowling  Green.  He  is  a  lion,  and 
strangers  from  England  and  Germany  and 
France  ask  to  be  presented.  They  talk — not 
always  wisely  or  with  taste. 

"  Was  Hamilton  a  gentleman?  "  asks  a  pop 
injay  Frenchman. 

Aaron's  black  eyes  blaze:  "  Sir,"  says  he,  "  I 
met  him!  " 

"  Colonel  Burr,"  observes  a  dull,  thick  Eng- 
332 


THE    SERENE    LAST    DAYS 

lishman,  who  imagines  himself  a  student  of  gov 
ernments — "  Colonel  Burr,  I  have  read  your 
Constitution.  I  find  it  not  always  clear.  Who 
is  to  expound  it?  " 

Aaron  leads  our  student  of  governments  to 
the  window,  and  points,  with  a  whimsical  smile, 
at  the  Broadway  throngs  that  march  below. 

"  Sir,"  he  remarks,  "  they  are  the  expounders 
of  our  Constitution." 

Aaron,  at  seventy-eight,  does  a  foolish  thing; 
he  marries — marries  the  wealthy  Madam  Ju- 
mel.  They  live  in  the  madam's  great  mansion 
on  the  heights  overlooking  the  Harlem.  Three 
months  later  they  part,  and  Aaron  goes  back  to 
his  books  and  his  pipe  and  his  wine,  in  his  rooms 
by  the  Bowling  Green. 

It  is  a  bright  morning;  Aaron  and  his  friend 
Van  Ness  are  walking  in  Broadway.  Suddenly 
Aaron  halts  and  leans  against  the  wall  of  a  house 
— the  City  Hotel. 

"  It  is  a  numbness,"  says  he.  "  I  cannot 
walk!" 

The  good,  purple,  puffy  Dr.  Hosack  comes 
panting  to  the  rescue.  He  finds  the  stricken  one 
in  his  rooms  where  Van  Ness  has  brought  him. 

"Paralysis!"  says  the  good  anxious  Ho 
sack. 

333 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

Aaron  is  out  in  a  fortnight;  numbness  gone, 
he  says.  Six  months  later  comes  another  stroke ; 
both  legs  are  paralyzed. 

There  are  to  be  no  more  strolls  in  the  Battery 
Park  for  Aaron.  Now  and  then  he  rides  out. 
For  the  most  part  he  sits  by  his  Broadway 
window  and  reads  or  watches  the  world  hurry 
by.  His  friends  call;  he  has  no  lack  of  com 
pany. 

The  stubborn  Swartwout  looks  in  one  after 
noon  ;  Aaron  waves  the  paper. 

"  See !  "  he  cries.      "  Houston  has  whipped 
».4«'.-"X£^->3 

Santa  Ana  at  San  Jacinto !  That  marks  the  dif 
ference  between  a  Jefferson  and  a  Jackson  in  the 
White  House !  Sir,  thirty  years  ago  it  was 
treason ;  to-day,  with  Jackson,  Houston  and  San 
Jacinto,  it  is  patriotism." 

Winter  disappears  in  spring,  and  Aaron's 
strength  is  going.  The  hubbub,  the  bustle,  the 
driving,  striving  warfare  of  the  town's  life 
wearies.  He  takes  up  new  quarters  on  Staten 
Island,  and  the  salt,  fresh  air  revives  him.  All 
day  he  gazes  out  upon  the  gray  restless  waters 
of  the  bay.  His  visitors  are  many.  Nor 
do  they  always  cheer  him.  It  is  Dr.  Ho- 
sack  who  one  day  brings  up  the  name  of  Ham 
ilton. 

334 


THE    SERENE    LAST    DAYS 

"  Colonel,  it  was  an  error — a  fearful  error!  " 
says  the  doctor. 

"  Sir/'  rejoins  Aaron,  the  old  hard  uncompro 
mising  ring  in  his  tones,  "  it  was  not  an  error, 
it  was  justice.  When  had  his  slanders  rested? 
He  heaped  obloquy  upon  me  for  years.  I  stood 
in  his  way;  I  marred  his  prospects;  I  mortified 
his  vanity;  and  so  he  vilified  me.  The  man 
was  malevolent — cowardly!  You  have  seen 
what  he  wrote  the  night  before  he  fought  me. 
It  sounds  like  the  confession  of  a  sick  monk. 
When  he  stood  before  me  at  Weehawken,  his 
eye  caught  mine  and  he  quailed  like  a  convicted 
felon.  They  say  he  did  not  fire !  Sir,  he  fired 
first.  I  heard  the  bullet  whistle  over  my  head 
and  saw  the  severed  twigs.  I  have  lived  more 
than  eighty  years;  I  dwell  now  in  the  shadow 
of  death.  I  shall  soon  go ;  and  I  shall  go  saying 
that  the  destruction  of  Hamilton  was  an  act  of 
justice. " 

"  Colonel  Burr,"  observes  the  kindly  doctor, 
"  I  am  made  sorry  by  your  words — sorry  by 
your  manner !  Are  you  to  leave  us  with  a  heart 
full  of  enmity?  " 

The  black  eyes  do  not  soften. 

"  I  shall  die  as  I  have  lived — hating  where 
I'm  hated,  loving  where  I'm  loved." 
335 


AN     AMERICAN     PATRICIAN 

The  last  day  breaks,  and  Aaron  dies — dies 
as  though  falling  asleep. 

'*  What  lies  beyond?"  asks  one  shortly  be 
fore  he  goes. 

;<  Who  knows  ?"  he  returns. 

"  But  do  you  never  ask?  " 

'Why  ask?  Who  should  reply  to  such  a 
question? — the  old,  old  question  ever  offered, 
never  answered." 

"  But  you  have  hopes?  " 

"  None,"  says  Aaron  steadily.  "  And  I  want 
none.  I  am  resolved  to  die  without  fear;  and 
he  who  would  have  no  fear  must  have  no  hope." 

So  he  departs/^he,  of  whom  the  good  Dr. 
Bellamy  said:  "  He  will  soar  as  high  to  fall  as 
low  as  any  soul  alive." 


(t) 

UPsEVE.;«5irfY  l 


THE    END 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
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UV"".         • 

:,;    JeOT 

REC'iD 

LD 

Dl 

JAW  J  ° 

REC'D  LD 

torn 

v/rl/V    JL  & 

'"oy 
1   DEC30'64-U.AM 

— — — 


DEC  15  75 


NOV  15  1959 


RECfD 


-5  -- 


JAN  1 2  10C9 


LOAN  DEPT. 


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